


In A Name: Act I

by M_Manipulative_33



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Comedy, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Eventual Romance, F/M, Kidnapping, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Sarcasm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-03-16 15:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 225,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13638711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Manipulative_33/pseuds/M_Manipulative_33
Summary: The last thing A'isha expected to find in her lobby was some psycho with a magic stick and an infuriating disposition. Of course, her boy-obsessed cousin had let him in, no questions asked. To make matters worse, the creep had to go and kidnap them both. Why'd that stupid Rare Hunter have to blurt out Marik's name when he mugged her a week ago? Starts pre-Battle City. Cross-posted from FFN. Marik x OC.





	1. Prologue: A Freudian Slip

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is an in canon Marik x OC fic that is coauthored by Ataahua and The Duelist's Heiress from FanFiction.Net and takes place prior to and during Battle City; the sequel will pick up four years after Battle City. We've decided to cross-post this fic from that site. Our other stuff will soon follow.
> 
> This story is still in progress at this stage, not complete, but we're new to AO3 so we're not sure of how to change it to actually SAY it's in progress- even with the tips and hints from the site. If you know how to do it, we would majorly appreciate you popping steps of how to do so in the comment box! XD
> 
> We hope you enjoy the prologue of In A Name: Act I!

**Prologue: A Freudian Slip**

His eyes scanned the report on his desk, surprised at his own self control considering something had not gone according to plan. He scanned the report for a name…vexed by the fact that whoever transcribed this needed to work on their penmanship. He had already found his own name. That was the problem. A smirk crossed his features as he found the one responsible for this Freudian Slip.

He set the report aside, fingering a golden object that lay on his lap. His hypnotic voice echoed softly with a lightly malicious rasp. "Bring Micheas to the Throne room."

 

* * *

The room was ice cold and completely bare, save for three short steps that led to a grand, golden throne. A cloaked figure, face shrouded beneath the darkness of his hood, occupied this throne, an ominous air about him as he stared down the shaking man prostrating himself before him. The figure's demeanour alone was remorseless, striking such fear into the man that his face twisted with terror, eyes wide in cruel anticipation of what was to come.

"It-It was a-a slip of the t-tongue." The words of desperation tumbled from his quivering lips as pitiful stutters, while pallor swept mercilessly across his face. "I-I didn't i-intend for-"

"It doesn't matter," the figure stated with a cruel smirk. "Someone who has avoided getting convicted as many times as you have should know that a mere slip of the tongue makes all the difference."

"Pl-Please, Master," the man begged, already knowing what horror fate had in store for him. "It-It won't ha-happen again!"

The callous figure he'd addressed as 'Master' chuckled darkly. "You're right, you fool." His eyes narrowed, flashing with ruthlessness, as he slowly raised a golden object, the eerie eye engraved upon it shimmering wickedly beneath the dim, artificial lighting. "I'll make certain of that."

"No!" the man whimpered, his eyes bulging in overwhelming fear. "Master! Please! NO—"

"Silence!" the callous figure yelled as his beseeching victim's pitiful, ear-piercing screams bounced continuously off the metal walls and in a flash of light, the man slumped to the floor. Still. Soulless. He was gone.

"One should know the cost of an infamous slip of the tongue," the figure whispered softly.

Seconds later, another cloaked figure stepped out from the shadows that dominantly clawed at every corner of the room. "Master Marik," he said, his voice deep and full of respect. "Should we send some Rare Hunters after the girl?"

A cunning smirk tugged at Marik's lips. "No." Mirth danced in the depths of his lavender eyes. "I've something far more  _entertaining_ in mind."


	2. Chapter 1: Courtesies Forgotten and Remembered

**Chapter One: Courtesies Forgotten And Remembered**

A'isha Dahar was awoken by repetitive nudges on her left foot. She groaned, her closed eyes clenching tighter in an attempt to shield them from the glimpse of light that peeked through them. As she jerked her foot away from the one responsible for waking her, A'isha rolled from her stomach onto her side. "Go away..." she mumbled groggily, stuffing her pillow over her head. "It's Saturday! That means I  _choose_ when I wake up."

"Elissa has already left for work," came her uncle's insistent tone of voice. "And because Amara's grounded, you have to make sure she stays true to her punishment. She's not allowed to use anything that has a screen – including her cell phone, which we've taken off of her – and she's certainly not allowed to leave the house or have anyone over here... _especially boys_."

A'isha huffed into the pillow. "But I don't wanna babysit," she moaned.

Uncle Ahad groaned. "We wish you didn't have to, but you know Mar will immediately disobey us if given the chance." He drawled out a sigh. "So get up, Ish." She felt a hand pat the pillow upon her head. "Please."

 _Not the guilt trip 'please',_ A'isha thought in irritation.  _Damn it, Uncle Ahad! That's just unfair!_

Footsteps trailing out of the room, followed by the soft click of her door, confirmed her uncle had left. She laid in bed, briefly wondering how long she'd be able to stay there before Ahad noticed. Unfortunately, he'd no doubt check before he left for work.

After a minute of bitter thinking, Ish exhaled a sigh of defeat, finally deciding on getting up. She groaned in disbelief as her eyes fell upon her digital clock, which sat on her bedside table. "Half past seven on a Saturday," she muttered irritably. "Just peachy.  _Friggin' peachy._ "

A'isha soon covered her pyjamas with a black, ankle length robe and, with leaden steps, left her room for Amara's. She peeked inside the room, growling at what she saw.  _So she gets to sleep in?_ She left the room and smirked, slamming the door shut behind her.  _Oops._

A'isha snickered to herself as she made her way back down the hall, pausing as her uncle shouted from downstairs. "What in Ra's name was that?"

Ish peered over the stair rail, her brow quirked. Ahad stared back up at her from the entrance, which the stairs led to. He wore his police uniform, complete with a hat. "Oh, nothing," A'isha replied with a smile. Maybe there was an upside to being woken up early.

Ahad cocked his head to the left with a sigh. "Well, okay," he drawled, before striding over to the front door. "Be sure to have the lasagna ready by seven, okay? Elissa and I will be home by then."

"Mm," A'isha voiced simply, watching as her uncle smiled, before he closed the front door behind him. A soft click soon confirmed that he'd locked it.

A'isha sighed, but straightened when an enraged shout met her ears. "A'ISHA, YOU STUPID COW!"

She snickered softly, knowing which room it had come from. "Good morning to you, too."

* * *

 

Ten minutes later found A'isha leaving her room for the bathroom, fresh pair of clothes in hand. She half-heartedly hummed a dreary tune to herself, still fairly bitter after such an early start to her morning. She made her way down the hall until, suddenly, she froze. The trickling splashes of water met her ears. Her cerulean blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "She didn't!" She quickened her steps down the hallway, halting at the door.  _She did!_

A'isha growled angrily as her eyes turned to slits. "AMARA, YOU TYRANT!" she screamed, banging her fist hard against the bathroom door. "GET THE HELL OUT OF THAT SHOWER! I WAS UP FIRST!"

"Screw you!" Amara hissed back. "Ladies first!"

A'isha scoffed, throwing her clean clothes on the floor beside the door. "YOU'RE INSUFFERABLE!" she shouted back, before storming off down the hallway. She decided on cooking herself some breakfast and, because Amara would no doubt take a very long time in the shower, she settled on boiled eggs and toast.

"Stupid Amara," A'isha muttered to herself as she lifted the kitchen tap, allowing cold water to flood into the electric kettle. "She's so selfish and immature. I mean, I'm babysitting my  _fifteen_ year old cousin." She turned off the tap and started boiling the kettle. She then turned on the stove to give it some time to heat up. Her eyes scanned the kitchen bench, where two slices of bread, a tub of butter and two eggs sat: the ingredients for her meal. "I mean, seriously," Ish sourly began, picking up one of the eggs, "I'd bet my lucky stars this damn egg has more of a brain than Mar." She chortled lightly at that comment, before the click of the kettle met her ears, signalling that her water had been boiled. "That's right, kettle. You'd better boil fast," she said in slight amusement, gripping it by the handle and pouring the now steaming water into a small pot that sat on the stove. "Okay then. Time for the eggs," she stated, grabbing the two eggs and carefully dropping them into the pot. Lastly, she placed her bread in the toaster and pushed down a button, allowing it to toast, before stepping around the counter to claim a stool at the bench.

About five minutes passed when Amara's stomps met A'isha's ears. She glanced at her cousin as she entered the kitchen, standing in the archway that led to the stairwell. Her straight, jet black hair cascaded over her shoulders, ending at her rear, the tips of her hair dripping water on the kitchen's wooden floor. The girl wore a pair of black skinny jeans, along with a tight, light pink tank top that read 'Don't mess with me!' in bold, black letters. A'isha rolled her eyes at the top.

Amara wandered further into the kitchen, cell phone in hand. She sniffed, before her eyes fell upon the toaster, then the boiling eggs.

"Where's mine?" Amara asked, her tone dead serious.

A'isha scoffed. "You really think I'm gonna-" Her eyes fell on the cell phone Amara held. "Hey! You're not allowed your cell!" she burst out, rising from the stool on which she sat. She took quick strides towards her cousin, hastily grabbing Mar by the wrist.

Amara screamed in her ear, making her flinch. "Lay off!" her infuriating cousin yelled, her free hand clawing at her left shoulder.

A'isha was determined to ignore Amara's scratching. "Give it here!" she hissed, attempting to pry the girl's fingers apart.

"NO!" Mar screeched, accepting A'isha's unannounced game of tug-of-war.

A'isha's eyes narrowed on her cousin as she pulled with all of her might...until an ingenious idea crossed her mind. She suddenly ceased her grip on her half of Amara's cell, catching her cousin by surprise.

Amara screamed as her cell phone slipped from her grasp and flew across the room, ironically landing in the pot of water along with the boiling eggs. A'isha's eyes widened in amused shock. Amara's, on the other hand, widened in horror. "OH MY GOSH!" she cried, tears welling up in her hazel eyes. "MY PHONE!"

A'isha laughed at her cousin's expense, gesturing to the pot of eggs. "Breakfast is served," she cockily stated, before grabbing some tongs from a drawer and using them to carefully fish out her eggs, unlike Amara, who thought it wise to grab her phone with only her hands. She then cried out in pain, her hands burning mercilessly as a string of curse words left her lips.

 _Good job,_ A'isha thought in amusement as she left for the dining room, breakfast in hand.  _I can't wait for that shower; I might even take one from Mar's books and take forever – maybe it'll calm my nerves after such an eventful morning._

* * *

 

Marik sat in his executive chair, fingers threaded together as his eyes scanned a new report; the information it entailed having been gathered over week's worth of close observation. He calmly murmured the information aloud. "Approximately fifteen to eighteen years old, blue eyes...black, wavy hair, reaching her shoulder blades, roughly 5'10, thin figure, tanned complexion – most likely of Egyptian/Arabic blood." His eyes narrowed with the next words. "Name unknown..." Marik frowned. "How disappointing. She knows mine, yet I've no idea of hers."

Pulling a blank sheet of paper from the first drawer of his desk, he set to copy the information he needed. His fine script had advantages over the hasty handwriting of the report.

"Photo on the following page," Marik murmured as he flipped over to the second page and sure enough, there it was. Reading of her appearance was one thing. Seeing it for himself was another thing entirely. He couldn't deny she was beautiful; very exotic, which increased Marik's certainty that the assumption made that she seems to be of Egyptian or Arabic origins was indeed correct. He cocked his head to the left, gazing at the girl beyond the paned window, who seemed to be smiling at someone else in the room, although this other person hadn't been captured in the photo.

Marik flipped back to the first page and continued to read aloud. "Home is two stories, modern and built in the expensive area of Alexandria. Address is thirty one Bolos Avenue. Three vehicles – one each belonging to the adults; one belonging to the girl." Marik cocked a platinum brow. "So the girl can drive." He jotted that down, along with the address.

"Routines are as follows: Leaves for school each morning, Monday through Friday – mainly by car – at around eight thirty. If not by car, leaving time varies from seven forty to ten past eight. Attends Alexandria High. Returns home at about half past three each afternoon, or just before four if walking." That information would be of no use to him, considering it was a Saturday.

With the next piece of information, Marik couldn't suppress an amused laugh. "Signs of insanity: talks to herself constantly." His lavender eyes were laughing as he spoke, "That appears to be an issue with you and I both, my dear."

Marik raised his brows in curiosity at the next information recorded. "Lives with uncle, aunt and cousin; as of present, we've no knowledge of why." He unlaced his fingers and thoughtfully raised a tanned hand to cup his chin. "How unfortunate, it seems she may be an orphan," he whispered. "But then again…how  _very_ interesting."

A frown tugged at Marik's lips as he irritably read, "Knows your name." It was scrawled hastily, as if the writer could not hide their fear as they wrote. He took a deep breath, recalling Michaes' foolish error; an error which had cost the Rare Hunter his soul. Now, because of that fool's imbecilic mistake – one which should have been easily avoided – Marik had to do work that should've been unnecessary...all because of one man's Ra-damned Freudian Slip. A faint growl emitted at the back of his throat at the thought. His annoyance heightened as an age-old maxim crossed his mind. "If you want something done about it, you must do it yourself."

Marik suddenly noticed a quick scribble at the bottom corner of the page. He cocked a brow in amused curiosity. "Definitely not a morning person." Marik chuckled lightly, filing the report away for future reference.

His icy, amethyst eyes fell upon the digital clock to his right, sitting on his desk beside an office lamp; the clock reading 8.47am. "One knows it is only common courtesy to visit another's house  _after_ the strike of nine." Folding the sheet that held necessary information and placing it into his wallet that lay on the desk in plain sight, he calmly rose from his seat and suavely paced around it, taking slow steps towards the doorway. His cold eyes narrowed dangerously, a cunning smirk snaking across his lips. "And I certainly wouldn't want to be rude now, would I?"


	3. Chapter 2: Courtesies Forgotten and Remembered Pt II

**Chapter Two: Courtesies Forgotten and Remembered Pt II**

A'isha smiled as she jumped into the spacious, tiled shower, the heated blast of water immediately soothing her. She slowly washed her body with lavender scented soap, her mood already feeling that much lighter, the jets of water washing away a portion of the anger she held over Amara's antics. She was still irritated beyond belief at the girl she was somehow related to. Of all the cousins she could've had, she just had to be stuck with the very mother of selfish, slutty cows.

Ish drifted off into a daydreaming state, watching as hot steam danced through the atmosphere, fogging up the glass around her. She then lathered cleanser over her face and left it to tend to her skin, which hardly needed tending to these days anyway, as she had long since passed the breakout-in-pimples stage of puberty. These days she'd only get the occasional hormonal blemish on her chin. She turned to her hair, taking her time to lather strawberry scented products, running her slender fingers through smooth, jet black locks. She had just rinsed away the cleanser, sighing in contentment at the feeling of such a long, relaxing shower...when the water ran cold.

A'isha gasped, goosebumps suddenly blanketing her bronze skin. She quickly pushed down the handle, turning off the shower head. Growling in disbelief, she bitterly left the fogged up shower, steam stirring around her as she moved. She'd barely been ten minutes!

 _That selfish brat did not use up the hot water!_ she thought in disbelief, grinding her teeth. Oh how she  _loathed_ Amara.

Aisha hastily sought out her black towel and wrapped it around her slender body, shielding herself from the cold. She huffed sharply as she secured the towel, by holding it with one hand, while her other hand quickly unlocked the bathroom door. Seconds later, she swung the door open and stormed into the hallway.

"AMARA!" she screamed in heated exasperation as she marched down the hall. "YOU'RE SUCH A SELFISH, INFURIATING, LITTLE—" She reeled to a halt. Her words were suddenly lodged in her throat as she gazed past the stair rail at the two people in the entryway, beside the front door.

Beside Amara stood a tall, dark and very handsome man, perhaps not much older than A'isha. He stared back at her with laughing lavender pools that bore an unsettling iciness. His platinum blond locks fell to his broad, bronze-skinned shoulders. A tight, navy blue tank top emphasized his toned arms, and he wore well-fitted, black denim jeans, along with a pair of leather shoes.

A'isha raised a brow at the gold jewellery adorning his body: armbands, wristbands, a pair of earrings and even a choker around his neck. In addition, there was a gold-coloured conservative wristwatch with a black face, showing the Roman numerals for three, six, nine and twelve, on his left wrist. A'isha could faintly see the seconds ticking by.

Her eyes rose once again to his admittedly attractive face. She shuddered immediately; an amused smirk had now snaked across his lips. A'isha swallowed hard, trying her best to hold her own uneasy gaze with his mocking one.

"Uhh..." she drawled nervously, biting her bottom lip, and after what seemed like a lifetime, she finally formed words. "Hello there." She sent a sheepish smile his way, along with a brief wave...and that's when it hit her. She'd forgotten her attire...or lack of such. A'isha glanced at her cousin, hoping that she would respect at least one restriction, and ask their...visitor...to leave.

A'isha's jaw clenched tight in embarrassment, cheeks flushing as red as a ripe tomato as she hastily retrieved her clothes and retreated back into the bathroom. As she quickly dressed, mentally dismissing any thought of Amara following the rules, she shuddered at that amused, almost cunning smirk that was now burned into her short-term memory. She took a deep breath, before leaving the room, fully prepared to confront their guest, and inform them that it would be wise to leave.

* * *

 

When A'isha trailed down the stairs, her towel-dried hair now flowing and wavy, she noted that Amara and their guest were no longer in the entryway. She sighed, knowing Amara, being as boy-obsessed as she was, would've no doubt invited him in, especially as he was...well, quite attractive. A'isha shook her head, shoving those thoughts from her mind.

As her foot fell upon the last step, A'isha heard a dark chuckle to her right. Her gaze snapped to its location and her eyes soon met the two icy pools of the guest's nerving gaze. He sat on a leather couch in the lounge, legs crossed with his right arm resting upon his knee and the other resting at his side, his watch visible. He was gazing over at her through the archway that led to the lounge, wearing the same amused smirk he had merely ten minutes earlier.

A'isha raised a brow in disbelief: Amara was sitting beside him...surprisingly...silent?

Swallowing hard, she forced a smile as she slowly made her way into the room. She was readier than she'd ever be to politely demand he leave. A'isha was usually great at getting straight to the point, but the cold presence lingering around this man seemed to penetrate her skin, slithering through her veins and freezing her where she stood. She supposed it was lucky that she now stood before him.

"Excuse me," A'isha began, gazing down at the still smirking man. He gazed right back at her, his eyes flashing cunningly. "May I ask why you're here?" A'isha smiled politely, thankful she'd taken up Drama at school.

"I'm a friend of your aunt and uncle. They advised I could visit them and Amara whenever I so chose." The man uncrossed his legs, spreading them coolly as he leaned back against the plush, leather couch. "I decided today would be perfect." He chortled quietly to himself, but she caught it.

A'isha was sceptical, to say the least, as she eyed the guest. "I find myself wondering why my aunt and uncle would befriend a guy your age," she stated pointedly, hardly resisting the urge to glare at him, before quickly adding, "Especially when they're so busy with work all the time. They hardly have a social life outside of work." Ish paused, eyeing him warily. "What's your name?" She wondered if she'd recognise it.

The man chuckled lightly. "Firstly, my father often has business meetings at your aunt's restaurant – meetings I often attend, which led me to meeting your aunt. Secondly, your uncle is a well-respected officer, who I've had the pleasure of  _working_  with in the past." He laughed softly, although his eyes remained cold and distant. "And my name is Namu." He raised a hand, not bothering to rise from the couch. "Namu Ishtahl." His eyes flashed mockingly. "Do you wish to question me on my name, also?"

A'isha glared at the blond. She'd never heard that name before in her life, and she certainly wasn't about to accept his handshake. Her hostility only encouraged an entertained smirk from Namu. "Well, your  _friends_ aren't here at the moment," A'isha almost spat, hoping that if her aunt and uncle ever found out about this, they would understand that it was not their intelligence she was insulting. "If you knew them as well as you say, then you'd know they don't get home until-"

Namu's expression was casual as he interrupted, "I thought I'd pay Amara and yourself a visit before-"

"You're not staying! Certainly not until seven!" A'isha retorted angrily, glaring daggers at the man.

"Might it be prudent to mention that I know of the incident that took place one week ago?" Namu's voice was eerily soft as he moved his right hand from his knee and rested it under his chin; that amused smirk still plastered on his face.

"You can't know about that..." A'isha had only spoken about the incident with her uncle, and it was a brief conversation at best. He had quite the predicament on his hands. He was dealing with a string of several random robberies involving Duel Monsters cards, and A'isha was the victim of the last known one.

She shook her head slightly. Why her boyfriend, Dani, had thrust that deck of cards into her care was still a mystery to her. He said he found it in a dark alley, and thought it would be best to leave in the care of Ahad. She had forgotten to give it to her uncle, and had soon faced consequences she definitely hadn't deserved. Namu's blunt and eerie voice jolted her from her thoughts.

"Oh, I can assure you that I can and I do know of it, my dear," Namu whispered softly, abandoning it before the next phrase. "You still doubt that my claims of knowing your family are true." Namu paused, his words of logic bearing a thin iciness to them. "Would anyone who doesn't know your family know that detail?" He raised a cocky brow, feigning a questioning gaze.

His haughty attitude was really starting to make A'isha's blood boil. Her hot-headedness was beginning to kick in. Unfortunately her common sense was a little further behind. She stepped in front of Namu, glaring at him. "Look," Ish hissed through clenched teeth. "Firstly, I don't know you." She pointed a finger at him. "Secondly, my cousin is NEVER silent around anyone…especially males." She hesitated. "And thirdly, I think YOU" She prodded her finger into the navy cloth of his shirt, "have something to do with that."

"Very perceptive, aren't we?" Namu sneered with ice in his voice. "And how do you think me capable of Amara's silence?" His eyes were mocking her, as if he thought her unable to provide a logical answer.

"You certainly didn't strike her speechless with your looks," A'isha stated hotly.

"Well, I doubt you would dispute me if I said my appearance played a factor on how trusting Amara was. It really is pathetic that she just quite nonchalantly let me in without asking any questions first." Namu crossed his arms dismissively. "Of course, it is simply human nature to see an inherent innocence in a person who you have just met." He stood from the couch, only slightly taller than A'isha. "You never saw that. You let your instincts steer you." Namu smiled madly as he reached for something on his right. "And to an extent, your inferences were very accurate."

A'isha furrowed her brows in confusion as Namu's hand disappeared behind his back...before he pulled out a mysterious, golden artifact. Ish was suddenly frozen in fear, for at the end of this item, she could clearly identify a sheathed dagger. Namu's mad smile widened as her expression morphed into a look of utter horror, her eyes wide in terror and mouth slightly agape. For a second, her heart seemed to stop. Was he...planning to murder her?

"Holy shit," A'isha whispered under her breath, voice shaky as she tried her best to keep tears of terror at bay.

Namu raised a questioning brow. "Why so silent?" he whispered with a menacing smirk. "Afraid, are we?"

A'isha struggled to gulp sharp gasps for air, shock overwhelming her. Another shaky whisper came. "Holy shit..." she breathed, voice cracking this time. She was in trouble... She had to get away from this madman. Namu loomed over her, chuckling darkly as he scanned her from head to toe.

Shivering with fear, A'isha sprinted for the entryway, not wanting to glance back to see if he was racing after her. She leaped up the stairs, three at a time, and into the first room that came to mind: the bathroom. She locked the door behind her with a trembling hand, breathing a sigh of relief. She would hopefully be safe here...though she couldn't say the same for Amara. It was her cousin's problem, though, despite the guilt that clawed at her petrified mind. Amara had let the nutter inside in the first place, and A'isha wasn't about to go back down there...so her cousin would have to fend for herself. In that time, A'isha would only stay here until her aunt and uncle returned... or until the police, by some random and miraculous chance, found her here...and arrested this Namu, who was clearly a bit insane.

* * *

 

Namu chortled lightly as he raised the rod menacingly.  _It seems my mindslave holds knowledge of how to reach the girl._ The golden rod flashed for a single second.  _Perfect._

"Awaken, my mindslave." The instruction bore a hypnotic iciness to it. Suddenly, Amara showed movement by stiffly rising to her feet. "Bring her to me."

Amara's eyes were blank and soulless as she took slow, calculated steps, following the path A'isha had just taken, however, she detoured right once at the top of the stairs and into A'isha's room.

* * *

 

A'isha exhaled a shaky breath, having calmed down slightly. She wondered if Mar was alright. If Namu had hurt her...or worse. She stifled back tears at that frightening thought. Great...She'd just calmed down and was now working herself up all over again!

All of a sudden, she froze, hearing a faint scraping sound, along with the jiggle of the lock. Her eyes flew wide as she hastily scrambled away from the door. A'isha had a bobby pin hidden behind a potted plant on her bedside table, specifically for those irritating times when she and Mar would have a fight, using the bobby pin to unlock the bathroom door after Mar would lock herself inside.

 _How...could he have known where the bobby pin was hidden?_ Ish asked herself, trembling.  _It's impossible that this Namu guy would even know I had a bobby pin specifically for the bathroom door...and Mar sure wouldn't help him!_ Realisation gripped her hard.  _Not willingly..._

A'isha heard the soft click of the lock, confirming that the lock picker had succeeded. She found herself holding her breath as the door swung open. Her face lifted in slight relief as she exhaled the breath she'd been holding, seeing that Amara stood in the doorway. However, her heart dropped all over again as she scanned her cousin's face... It was dull, her eyes dead. Lacking any and all emotion. Soulless.

A'isha immediately knew this wasn't Amara. Somehow...this was  _him_.

A golden eye gleamed brightly upon Amara's temple as she spoke, her voice monotone, entwined with an icy voice that certainly wasn't her own. "If you wish to see Amara's pathetic mind loosened from what holds her-" Mar's hand beckoned A'isha to follow her "-I suggest you follow the shell that is her body."

A'isha shuddered at the dark chuckle the left her cousin's lips. It didn't belong to her...and it certainly didn't suit her! Glaring daggers at her cousin, A'isha's head dropped in defeat. "Fine!"

With another chilling chuckle, Amara's next words were spoken mockingly. "There's a good girl."

A'isha growled audibly at his taunting, grudgingly allowing her cousin's shell to lead the way. She soon found herself in the lounge once again. Namu had returned to the comfort of the couch while she had fled for her life—at least, she believed he'd intended on taking her life. She hoped against hope her suspicions were proven false.

She eyed Namu pointedly, only prompting that chilling smirk to grow wider on his face, if that were even possible. She then looked mutely at Amara, shivering at the dark, amused laugh coming from the couch.

A'isha slowly approached the smirking man, each step striking more fear in her than the last. Was she about to die? Was this nutcase about to stab her? To deprive her of the right to live? She swallowed hard, hoping that if this was indeed the case, he'd make it as short and painless as possible. Of course, being stabbed would no doubt hurt like hell... but many men tend to do...things...to their female victims before murdering them. Ish found herself silently begging that she wouldn't be one of them...that is, if murdering her  _was_  his intention. Preferably not.

She came to a stop in front of Namu, who gazed up at her with laughing, lavender eyes. Smirk never wavering, he calmly stated, "I assure you that I hold no intention of murdering you." Tucking the golden rod into his belt once again, Namu slowly rose from his seat. "However, know that I am capable of  _many_ things."

His words did nothing to ease A'isha's nerves, but she tried her best to remain calm and collected as she stared him down. "Is murdering one of those things?" she said, not daring to shift her sight from him in case he tried something funny.

"Touché." Namu grinned madly as A'isha scowled in silent reply, clearly not sharing his amusement. She was a top student in French and knew the language very well.

"What did you do to my cousin?" she suddenly spoke up, purposely changing the subject...although she really was curious. "I know that not even  _she_ would help you willingly, regardless of how attractive you are." Namu raised an amused brow at the latter of her words, to which she scoffed, hastily adding: "To her!"

Namu chuckled at her lack of tact, pulling the mysterious golden item out once again. "You see this, my dear?" He paused, awaiting a reply that never came. His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued. "This is the Millennium Rod... It allows me to both read and control any mind I so choose."

A'isha raised her brows in disbelief. "That  _stick_? Not even a freaking fancy artifact can do _that_!" she burst out, flinging her arms rather dramatically. So much for remaining calm and collected...

Namu tucked the Millennium Rod back into his belt as he asked, "And I suppose you hold a more logical explanation for how I am able to control Amara's feeble excuse for a brain?" He laughed dryly, eyes briefly glancing to his left, where Amara stood blankly in the entryway that led to the stairwell.

"I—You could be a...a psychic...or...a hypnotist or something!" Ish countered, not willing to believe that this rod could be the reason for her cousin's strange behaviour. "It's impossible for a golden  _stick_ to give someone such powers!"

Namu laughed. "Your ignorance amuses me. You suggest alternatives that seem just as illogical to some people. Many believe that anything that seems illogical – in no way, shape or form – could possibly exist." His next words were low and cryptic. "But you'll soon learn that this certainly is not the case."

A'isha's brows knitted in a mixture of confusion and unease. "What do you mean by that?"

"Never you mind," Namu stated nonchalantly as he rose from the couch, swiftly pressing his pointer finger gently against her nose. He chortled at the look of irritation on her face.

"Leave," A'isha ordered with all her self-control, staring the creep down as best she could.

"If you want me to leave your simply quaint home, I shall require a ride," Namu said decisively.

"Do I look like a chauffeur to you?!"

"I can only assume the vehicle outside belongs to you. " Namu laughed softly. "I know that Little Amara is only able to  _drive_ you mad."

A low growl hissed from A'isha's throat as she wordlessly walked past the still silent Amara, retrieved her keys, and went for the door, keeping a careful eye on Namu. She wanted to be ready for anything that he could throw at her. He followed, wearing that ever present, enraging smirk; his attention was on her the entire time.

A'isha opened the door, ensuring Namu was out first. Following behind, A'isha was about to shut the door. She couldn't keep from squirming as Namu's voice cut through her actions. "I believe we have one more." He paused, his next words a soft grated whisper. "It would be quite irresponsible for you to leave Amara home alone."

She minutely registered Amara's procession towards the car. Swiftly unlocking the front driver's side door of her black sedan, she was stricken speechless as she saw her cousin slide into the back seat.  _Mar never takes the back seat of her own choice. That habit would_ never  _change, no matter how good looking the guy is...not of her own free will anyway._ A'isha grimaced, because she was all too easily reminded that her cousin was somehow under the influence of a psychopathic nutcase of a madman.

Namu soon occupied the front, passenger seat, much to A'isha's distaste. From the corner of her eye, she could see that same cocky smirk plastered onto his face. Oh, how she wished she could slap it right off of his pretty boy face! Only the uncertainty of repercussions prevented this action. She was anxious as to why he'd shown up at her house with such a smug air about him and was now just  _willingly_ leaving. It wasn't adding up!

A dark chuckle made A'isha shiver. "Shall we, my dear?"

A'isha felt his lavender gaze burning directly into her and couldn't suppress the urge to look. As her cerulean blue eyes locked with those of her passenger, she couldn't hold in a shudder. His eyes were mocking and aloof; two icy pools. It was obvious that his eyes were the window to his personality. Ish knew this from the moment they'd met. The hue was deceptively calm, but everything else about them suggested cold apathy and fury that could only remain hidden for so long.

Another chuckle yanked A'isha from her ruminations. "Lost amid our pathetic little thoughts, are we?" Namu pressed.

A'isha's eyes narrowed on the blond as she gripped the steering wheel tightly, picturing it as his head. It was all she could do to resist a snide remark. "Where exactly are we heading?" she said in forced calmness as she started up the car.

"My my," Namu spoke with a chuckle, knowing this was sure to make her snap. "Is that  _steam_ I see leaving your ears?"

A'isha huffed in exasperation, slamming her hands against the steering wheel as her eyes snapped to the blond. "If you wish to affect my concentration then you're going the right way about it!" Gritting her teeth, she continued to hiss, "So if you want us to crash, I suggest you keep going as you are, but if not, then shut the hell up!"

Namu laughed, evoking an angry growl from his tormentee, accompanied by a venomous death glare. "Just shut the hell up, you insufferable  _kalet_!" she screamed, whacking a clenched fist hard against his upper arm.

Namu's eyes narrowed dangerously as he harshly gripped her right wrist, as A'isha attempted to land another hit. "You dare call me a filthy street bastard?" he hissed, ignoring her whimpers of pain. He was gripping her wrist far too tightly, to the point that it was slowly draining of its colour.

A'isha ignored his question, instead screaming, "Let go of-" She winced as he began to twist her wrist.

"Answer me!" Namu's voice boomed; his words may have been icy before, but now they were a raging fire.

"Yes!" she hissed, not willing to release her pride. "I called you a  _kalet_!"

Namu's low growl seemed to imitate a hungry lion perfectly. "What was that?" he whispered through clenched teeth, his voice now surprisingly calm. A'isha immediately knew by the deceptive calmness of his tone that he was furious. "Was that spite I heard in your voice?" he asked, maintaining a tight grip on A'isha's wrist.

A'isha suppressed an agonized yelp as Namu twisted her wrist further...little by little. Her defiant blue eyes locked with his domineering, unwavering ones. "You heard me!" she finally hissed back, though he detected the shaky edge to her words.

Namu suddenly all but slammed A'isha's wrist on the small area between the stick shift and the parking brake. Her eyes widened in terror when he leaned forward; she became fearful of the impending additional pressure on her wrist. She only minutely relaxed when she saw that most of his weight was on his left arm, which was behind his more dominant right hand, resting at a forty-five degree angle. "I told you that I am capable of many things. If I so chose, I could quite easily break your wrist." His hold loosened as he pushed more weight off his right arm and onto his left. "However, as one needs both hands to operate a vehicle efficiently, breaking your wrist would serve nothing to my advantage."

Relief quickly overwhelmed A'isha as Namu's grasp ceased entirely, allowing her wrist freedom. She swiftly pulled it towards her body, rubbing it tenderly. It slightly ached from his strong grasp. She knew then and there that overpowering him was definitely out of the question. He was far stronger than her, even when taking into account the self defence classes Amara had forced Ish to take with her.

Taking a deep sigh, she gazed straight ahead, gripping the steering wheel rather tightly as she quietly forced out, "Where to?"

Namu leaned back in the seat, eyes closed coolly. "Alexandria Docks, if you please." Opening a single eye, he fought back a knowing smirk as A'isha's expression morphed to one of distrust.

"Why the docks? Are you not from around here?" She sent a pointed look his way in silent accusation.

"Asking to be driven to the docks is much simpler than giving the actual directions." Namu sighed softly, before adding, "And my home is merely a short walk away from them, anyway."

A'isha huffed bitterly as she reversed out of the driveway. By this point, her scowl seemed to be permanently pasted upon her face. "Fine," she sourly said.

When Namu merely chuckled, A'isha ignored him, instead glancing back at her cousin through the rear-view mirror. A frown tugged at her lips at Amara's blank expression. She could hardly believe she'd prefer her cousin's constant gossiping over her almost painful silence. Her eyes quickly snapped back to the road as she drove; she'd been to the docks many a time. When her uncle would take her for driving lessons, they'd drive to the docks and back. It was only fifteen minutes away from her house, if that.

Inhaling a steady breath, her eyes never left the road as she quickly switched on the radio. She preferred the funky music over the deathly silence enveloping the car. She couldn't suppress a smile—despite the situation—when one song soon ended, and "Whataya Want From Me" by Adam Lambert began to blast through the radio.

Exhaling the breath she'd briefly been holding, she turned up the volume by means of a button on the steering wheel and quietly began to sing along. "Hey. Slow it down... Whataya want from me? Whataya want from me?" The tune eased her, if only a tiny bit. "Yeah...I'm afraid. Whataya wa—"

"I take it you've had lessons?" Namu suddenly interrupted, causing A'isha to momentarily freeze. She didn't think she'd been loud enough for him to hear.

She huffed as she noticed Namu had turned down the radio by using the dial on the main control panel. "Hey! What makes you think—"

"It was far too loud," Namu stated irritably. "And you've yet to answer my question." He quirked a brow with what was quickly becoming an irksome smirk.

"Yes, I've had lessons," A'isha bitterly replied with a sigh and a roll of her eyes, although she kept her eyes on the road nonetheless. "Just under a year ago, my boyfriend caught me singing and – even though I think I was terrible as a  _kid –_ he convinced me to take up singing lessons." Ish couldn't hold back a smile at the thought of her boyfriend. She silently wished he would somehow come get her out of this situation.

"Aww. How sweet," Namu sneered in mock sincerity, inducing a dark glare from A'isha.

"Like you would know what it's like to be in a relationship," Ish retorted matter-of-factly, cocking her head to the right with a sweet – and obviously fake – smile. "With an attitude like yours I doubt you'll  _ever_ have a partner of your own."

Namu only laughed at this, which caused A'isha to growl. What was up with him? She'd just insulted the jerk and he'd only  _laughed_!

"Acquiring a female would be a rather simple task, and is at the very bottom of my to-do list at the moment, however—" He glanced over his shoulder at the back seat, unknown to Ish, whose eyes remained on the road "—I may gain possession of a female far sooner than I had first anticipated." He chuckled lightly at this comment.

Ish scoffed, sickened by the way he talked about women...like they were something to own. Not that she was about to voice her opinion, opening another can of worms in the process. Her current predicament was enough by far! Instead, recalling his laughter, she snidely said, "I didn't catch the joke."

"You will, my dear." Namu eyes glistened with cunning as they shifted from the back seat's occupant to the road that rolled out before them. "Sooner than you may think..." he murmured under his breath.

* * *

 

Around fifteen minutes later, A'isha pulled over on the side of the road, eyes gazing at the old warehouses from through her opened window. They loomed high over her black sedan.

"Alexandria Docks," Ish murmured with a relieved sigh, before turning to face Namu. Her face twisted with anger as she gestured to Namu's door. "Now get out." It was definitely a command, and not a suggestion.

Namu merely snickered, casually leaving the car. "My thanks for your oh so lovely hospitality," he sneered as he calmly shut the car door behind him.

"My pleasure," A'isha spat with a hint of false sweetness.

When Namu offered no reply, Ish opened her mouth to add a snide statement, when the soft click of another door met her ears. Her befuddled gaze snapped to the back seat. It was empty. Looking out of the back window, she realized her cousin was silently coming to a standstill beside the still-smirking Namu, who now stood beside A'isha's door, his right shoulder in contact with the vehicle.

"Amara!" she burst out in disbelief. "What are you-" Ish cut her words short has reality took hold. Amara was still under Namu's control. "Namu!" she hissed, reaching for the door handle; however, Namu pressed his weight against the door, blocking her way out.

"Now now, my dear," he whispered with a subtle laugh, a chilling edge to his tone. "Let's not be too hasty."

"What are you playing at?" A'isha barked, sending a loathing glare Namu's way.

Namu leaned closer, their noses mere inches from touching, and A'isha regretted her need to drive with an open window. "I can assure you that this shan't be our only meeting." A'isha shuddered as his hot breath brushed across her face. "I'm merely… ensuring your cooperation." He straightened where he stood, seeming to almost tower over A'isha, and he gestured to Amara.

A'isha's breath caught in her throat. Cooperation? Was he suggesting that Amara was his...  _leverage_?!

"Little Amara shall stay with me. Her beauty is certainly satisfactory enough... That is, for I what I have in store for her." Namu chuckled lightly, a wide smirk plastered onto his face.

A'isha's fists tightened until her skin had begun to turn white, disgusted as she perceived his implication. Slack jawed, she sought out the door handle once again, but when she began to fling the door open, Namu only slammed it forcefully back into place.

"DON'T YOU  _DARE_ TOUCH HER, YOU SICK LOW-LIFE!" A'isha screamed at the top of her lungs, heated tears threatening to fall. She growled almost savagely as she pounded her fists excessively against the car door. "DON'T YOU LAY A FINGER O—"

A'isha froze mid-sentence as Namu raised his right hand, tracing his index finger across her cousin's arm. His smirk grew as her glare hardened another notch. "You were saying?"

"YOU PERVERTED LITTLE—"

Namu clucked his tongue, stiffly waving a disapproving index finger back and forth. "There's no need for colourful language, my dear," he scolded with a sneer, knowing he was lucky a door separated him from furious girl. His sneer morphed into that irksome smirk once again.

Oh, how quickly A'isha was tiring of that smirk. "I'll be able to recognize you by that  _damn infuriating_  smirk of yours!" she stated angrily with a scowl.

"And I'll recognize you by that oh so amusing temper of yours," he countered, smirk now stretching from ear to ear.

A'isha gasped and – wanting nothing more than to wipe that overwhelmingly irksome smirk from his face – she sent a balled fist his way. Like lightening, it lashed through the air and slammed into his cheek, sending him stumbling with a low groan. His back soon met a yellow pole, there to prevent cars from driving through a certain area. She smiled with satisfaction when she saw the makings of a bruise start to pool around where she had dealt the blow. "Suck on that, jerk," A'isha hissed, glaring Namu down with an entirely new level of loathing. As she hastily drove off, she failed to realize this action only proved Namu's statement to be correct, and failed to see it was the reason for his smirk after he had recovered.

"I doubt you'll have the courage to do something of that sort when next we meet, my dear," Namu said darkly as he walked to an unknown destination with Amara close behind.

A'isha was five minutes into the trip back when the grave enormity of her current circumstances finally caught up with her. She quickly pulled over as numerous thoughts ran through her head.  _I left my cousin with a psychopath, and my aunt and uncle will have my head if they come back and Mar is- Crap, what am I going to do?_ A'isha rubbed her temples in frustration.  _Why must I have a date with Dani tonight? ...I don't want to cancel, but I would hope Mar would do the same for me, and cancel on a date to rescue me._ She sighed in resignation as she pulled a sapphire blue flip phone out of the small compartment between the back of the front seats. Flipping the device open, A'isha immediately hit the down arrow once and pressed the "3" key, bringing her to Dani's contact info without a hitch. She pressed the talk button, and the phone rang until the answering machine picked up. The automated voice asked to be left a message, after which it beeped harshly in her ears.

A'isha sighed bitterly, wishing he'd picked up. Succeeding in hiding any signs of bitterness, she spoke apologetically, and although she was genuinely sorry, she wasn't guilty for the change of plans. After all, had she anticipated a psychopath kidnapping her cousin? Uhh... No.

"Hey, Dani. It's me. Uhh, look... something's come up and I can't make it tonight. I'm so sorry, but I'll get back to you ASAP to reschedule, okay?" She paused, biting her bottom lip as she briefly considered informing him of the current circumstances. She quickly decided against it. The thought of saving Amara and carrying on as if this never happened sounded far more appealing. "Well, I love you." She forced a rather remorseful smile, even though Dani was obviously unable to see it. "Bye..."

Ish quickly ended the message, gazing down at her cell phone briefly. She had close to no idea of where exactly Namu lived, her only clue being that he was somewhere near the docks. But at least knowing that narrowed down her search considerably, for the docks were more of an industrial area of town than a residential—Wait, were there even any houses nearby the docks?

Now that she thought about it, A'isha realized that there were close to none – if any – houses near the docks. Perhaps Namu knew she'd realize this small fact. He had seemed so certain that they'd meet again, though part of her knew he doubted her capability to rescue Amara. A'isha wondered why he was going to such lengths to torment her anyway. Before this morning, they'd never even met. What? Did Namu like to "play with his food"? This thought caused a cold shudder to shake her body. She'd unintentionally succeeded in creeping herself out, which somewhat battered her confidence in saving Amara... Perfect.

With a perplexed, shaky sigh, A'isha restarted the car, intending to make a quick stop at her home before her search and rescue mission came into play.


	4. Chapter 3: Rescue Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just a quick disclaimer, we don't own The Stig from Top Gear, The Terminator, or the Steve joke from Yu-Gi-Oh: The Abridged Series. Also, just a heads up that for now we're having Marik use different ship for this fic to what you see in the anime or manga. We imagine it to be somewhere around the size of a navy ship or a small cruise, thus why it has so many rooms. We feel that this isn't far-fetched, seeing as Marik has his launch and that ridiculous pirate ship when he finds Bandit Keith, so we figure he very well may have another boat for his children's card gaming stealing organisation, haha. FYI, Marik's blue and yellow launch will appear later on in this fic, when we reach Battle City. Anywho, enjoy the reading and thanks so much for your interest in this fic!

**Chapter Three: Rescue Mission**

Upon arriving home, A'isha shook nervously as she shut off the engine. Although her cousin was a pain in the rear, distraught would not even begin to describe her aunt and uncle's reaction if they were to find out Amara had been nabbed by some random nutcase of a stranger.

Though Namu attempted to present himself as quite the opposite, the more A'isha mulled over his demeanour, the more questionable his claims seemed to be. It was certainly no coincidence, nor an error on Namu's part that he'd "requested" she take him to the docks. If anything, it was a hint to aid with her "search and rescue" mission. But this still didn't answer her question as to  _why_  Namu was going to such lengths to torment her and her cousin. She sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. The questions that ran through her head without answers were only giving way to more. Had Namu intentionally given away his location? Was he counting on the attempt to rescue her cousin? And one she still had yet to answer: Why was he even doing all of this?

Breathing a shaky sigh, A'isha enclosed her keys in a shaking grip manipulated by fear. She swung the car door open and almost stumbled onto the driveway. Luckily she was coordinated enough to steady herself before she could faceplant the ground.

"Okay," A'isha whispered as she resisted the urge to bite her bottom lip; a habit she often fell back to when her thoughts were controlled by fear. "I've got to leave a note for Elissa and Uncle Ahad, then get back to the docks and track down Amara," she noted aloud, somewhat reminding herself of James Bond or other.

Not bothering to lock the car, A'isha sprinted to the front door and rushed to unlock it, which, due to her trembling hand, took a few tries. It only stressed her out more thanks to the sense of urgency overwhelming her. Slamming the door aside, she burst into the entryway and almost flew up the stairs, three steps at a time.

She gripped the wooden door frame to her uncle's study as she skidded to a halt. "Alright…" she drawled as she scanned Ahad's disorganized desk for equipment needed. "Paper and pen. Paper and pen. Paper and pe—Aha!" She exhaled in relief as she swiftly grabbed the stationary, then dropped into her uncle's office chair.

Her mind suddenly went blank. This note was simply to ensure that her aunt and uncle would be able to track her and Mar down, should the search and rescue not go to plan.

When A'isha returned from the "mission", she'd simply be able to throw out the note that had proved to be unnecessary. She already knew where she would place the note; somewhere that her aunt and uncle would definitely come across sooner or later.

Grasping the ball-point pen in a slightly steadier grasp, A'isha stared rather blankly at the refill paper. Pursing her lips in thought, she knew the note had to be simply perfect, but Mar's safety was, of course, more important, thus she needed to make this quick.

_Elissa and Ahad,_

_If you've found_ _this note and it's later than 7 PM_ _on December 15th, Mar and I have been abducted by a stranger named Namu. He presented himself at our home this morning, then kidnapped_ _Amara (and implied_ _he'd rape her) for reasons unknown._

_Namu forced me to drive him to Alexandria Docks. I was unaware until we'd reached the docks that he planned on kidnapping Mar. I'm heading there now._ _Start your search there?_

_A'isha_

A'isha read over the note, facepalmed at how stupid it was, then rushed out the door to the location she planned on hiding it.

* * *

A'isha swallowed hard as she shut off the car engine once more, nerves running wild. With a trembling hand, she jerked the car door open and jumped outside, determination shining in her eyes. She rushed to open the car boot, and nervously grabbed the bat sitting within it. "Better being safe than sorry, I suppose," she spoke aloud, out of insane habit.

She then checked that her cell was still resting in her denim short's pocket. Sure enough, it was. "Guess I'm all set," she whispered, exhaling a slow breath in a failed attempt to soothe her nerves. However, she almost jumped when a deep voice met her ears.

"Hey, girly." A'isha stiffened in horror, spinning on her heel to find a rather brawny man, although about her height, staring back at her with two harsh, blue pools. "You shouldn't be hanging out here."

A'isha scrunched up her nose at the man's foul breath. "Last time I checked, this was a public area," she retorted sternly.

She gasped, however, when the man suddenly swiped her wrist in his tight grip. "A lone girl such as yourself shouldn't be back-chatting in a barren place like this."

A'isha's eyes narrowed as she realized the bat was still within one hand. Panicking, she gathered every ounce of strength she could muster and swung it against his head. With a low groan, the man slumped to the ground before her. "And you shouldn't piss off a teenage girl with a bat," she barked, though she was relieved to have not heard any clicks and that no blood was visible. She didn't want the guy dead.

Biting her bottom lip, A'isha thought it best to get this man out of sight to avoid any and all suspicion. She concluded that hiding him in an alley or something would be her best bet, thus she encircled her arms beneath his armpits and back up against his shoulders, and with some struggling, dragged him into what looked like an alley, behind some warehouses.

Dropping the man to the ground, A'isha breathed a sigh of relief. "Glad that's over with. You weigh a freaking t—" Suddenly, her eyes widened in realization as she noted his attire properly: a flowing, purple cloak with two gold chains along the front, along with an eye insignia along the hood. "What the…" she drawled. "A Rare Hun-"

A'isha almost jumped when two voices met her ears. Their low tones proved they were men. "The Master's expecting a visitor, apparently," one man said, and A'isha wished she hadn't left her wooden bat by her car. She hadn't been able to drag the knocked out man while holding it. What if these men spotted her? What if they were Rare Hunters, and saw what she'd done to their comrade?

"Oh really?" the other man replied, a little curiosity lining his tone. "Who?"

"I think it's that girl that we've had to watch these past few days."

A'isha quirked a brow in curiosity, several questions now racing through her mind. Was  _she_  this girl that they spoke of? Have these men, Rare Hunters, been stalking  _her_  these past few days? Was  _Namu_  a Rare Hunter, and did he work for this "Master"? And if he did, then what did this "Master" want with Amara…and what did he want with  _her_?

A'isha ignored the remainder of the conversation, instead pulling the cloak from the unconscious man's body and putting it on herself. She was relieved that the man was about her height; the cloak fit her fairly well. She flicked the hood up to hide her identity as both a female and potentially as that girl they'd been stalking, just in case it  _was_ her they were referring to.

Knowing she didn't wish to be seen with an unconscious man in a dark alley, A'isha swiftly sprinted the opposite way the two men had been situated, thus out the way she'd came. However, her heart leapt as she skidded to a halt around the corner before a scrawny, lanky man with extremely pale skin.

"Oi, what's the rush?" the man asked, voice raspy and low as he grinned rather creepily.

A'isha's eyes widened, and she concluded it'd be best to attempt to pass off as a man. "Oh, just a rush of adrenaline."

"Ah, yeah," the man replied with a chuckle, whacking her on the back. "I get those too. Good thing we're not alone then, aye?" He laughed loudly, while A'isha, although dumbfounded at the fact she'd convinced him, crinkled her nose in disgust; this dude reeked of beer. "Anyway, catch ya later, Steve." The Rare Hunter turned on his heel with that.

A'isha laughed rather sheepishly. "Uhh. Bye…bro," she drawled, voice still manly.

 _...Steve? Wait—he actually thinks I'm a_ he _?_  A'isha raised a brow in disbelief.  _I don't know whether to be flattered or offended._

Suddenly, the man halted in his steps. "Wait—"

 _Oh shit!_  A'isha froze, terrified. Had he realized that she was, well, a  _she_?

The man turned to face her, and she exhaled the breath she'd unknowingly been holding when he spoke once again. "We have a meeting with the Master in five," he informed, expression one of realization.

A'isha decided to play along, assuming this Master held Amara captive. "We do?"

"Yeah. Come on!" the man insisted, beckoning for her to follow him. "No one wants to get on the Master's wrong side."

Ish furrowed her brows, expression almost as clueless and ditzy as her cousin's. "Umm…Noooo," she offered with a drawl, deciding it'd be best to tag along with this man in order to find Amara. She silently followed him through the maze of warehouses. It seemed he knew his way.

"Ah, good." Ish glanced at the man, squinting her eyes slightly when the gloom of the alleys between the warehouses gave way to the luminous light of the sun. "Looks like we're not late. Some guys are still out on deck."

"Huh?" A'isha voiced, before noticing the man was pointing at something or other. She quirked a curious brow as her gaze sought out for whatever he was gesturing to. Her mouth almost fell agape when her eyes fell upon a large boat, about the size of a small cruise ship, docked and floating upon the smooth surface of the ocean.

Several men garmented in Rare Hunter cloaks were wandering about on the boat's deck, and a few were walking about the docks, all heading for the boat…which she soon realized her company was doing.

A'isha knew this must've been the Rare Hunter clan's headquarters, as they did travel to many different countries; a boat would be a perfect, discreet method of transport.  _I have to tell Uncle Ahad about this..._

* * *

Five minutes later, A'isha found herself within the walls of the modernized boat. Well, modern save for the room in which she was currently situated, for it was gloomy and plain, excluding three smooth steps at the opposite end of the room to the exit. The steps led to what seemed to be a throne made of gold; perhaps this Master, who had yet to present himself, suffered from an enormous ego.

A'isha had followed suit with every Rare Hunter in the room, joining one of three long rows that lined the outer area of the room. The inner area was left free, presumably for walking space.

"Hey, Steve," A'isha heard one man greet at a whisper tone, and she turned to find a lanky man grinning in the line behind her, which was the second from the front; he had a few teeth missing.

"Yo, man," A'isha replied in her manly persona.  _Jeez. Who is this Steve guy? A drag queen?_ She suppressed a chuckle.  _Well, whoever he is, this dude's mighty popular._

A'isha almost jumped when the slam of a door boomed across the room, and she wasn't the only one. She raised her brows when every Rare Hunter suddenly stooped low to the ground, and she sheepishly copied them, supposing the Master had finally graced them all with his presence.

The room was deathly silent, with the exception of the slow, calculated steps that now bounced off the metal walls. Then, the master spoke up. "Good afternoon, my Rare Hunters," he calmly said, tone powerful and raspy.

A'isha's eyes widened in utter disbelief as his voice met her ears…a voice she definitely recognized. She knew better than to check while every single Rare Hunter was basically faceplanting the ground. She'd only draw attention to herself. Instead, she simply waited, allowing each word Namu uttered to continue to flush shock through her mind.

"You may be wondering why I've called this little meeting," the Master stated with ice in his voice. "Allow me to explain." He chuckled lightly. "I'm sure you're all aware of Michaes' perpetual trip to the dreaded Shadow Realm due to his foolish slip of the tongue to that girl," he hissed. "Well, allow me to inform you all that I'm expecting said girl to grace us with her admittedly amusing presence very soon, and I wish to make her search and rescue mission a little easier by ensuring that none of you spot her."

The click of the door, followed by another's footsteps, echoed about the room, accompanied by a mad snicker from the Master. "And also, know that I've ensured her cooperation by kidnapping Little Amara here."

A'isha's eyes widened as her gaze finally snapped up to see none other than Namu, smirking menacingly as Amara suddenly dropped to the cold ground. A'isha assumed Namu had freed her cousin from his hold.

Mar blinked cluelessly, unaware of the many Rare Hunters gazing at her from where they were stooped. "What- Where am I?" she whispered softly, before her gaze averted to the chuckling man looming over her. "N-Namu…What...are  _you_  doing here? …What am  _I_  doing here?" she questioned as she hastily stood.

"Tell me, Amara." A wide smirk snaked across Namu's lips as he lifted her chin upward, so her eyes gazed directly into his. "Have you ever heard of the Rare Hunters?"

She furrowed her brows, clearly wondering where he was going with that question. "Yes..." she drawled at a whisper.

Namu laughed. "Then look around you, foolish girl."

Amara's hazel eyes scanned the room, until pallor mercilessly swept across her face. It was all A'isha could do to resist leaping to her cousin's aid. Mar was only fifteen, not to mention incredibly ditzy!

"Now then, my Rare Hunters," Namu continued, shoving Amara to the floor in front of the line in which Ish was situated, "All that is left now is to wait." With that, Namu sought out the golden throne, which came as no surprise to A'isha; after all, she'd earlier thought that the Master must've been  _very_ egotistical.

"Hey, boys!" the Rare Hunter to her left suddenly spoke up, rising to his feet. Others soon followed suit and stood. "Seems we have some entertainment, eh?" He laughed as he pulled Amara to her feet by her wrist.

A wolf whistle echoed across the room and many men laughed, while Namu simply remained silent where he sat cross-legged upon his throne, stroking a golden rod A'isha certainly recognized. Namu, however, was smirking in what seemed to be amusement at the scene. It only fuelled A'isha's rage.

Her eyes narrowed. She couldn't take any more of this treatment towards her cousin. "No!" she burst under her guise of Steve, as she gripped Amara by the shoulders and pulled the younger girl towards her. "She's all mine, boys!"

A'isha forced a laugh as she decided on attempting to head towards the door, so she and Mar would be able to make a run for it. The other Rare Hunters laughed, believing she was simply cracking a joke.

"Nice one, Steve!" the man she'd nabbed Mar from stated with a chuckle.

Amara, on the other hand, didn't find this funny in the least. Instead, she vehemently yelled, "Let go, you freak!" as she harshly swung a leg where she believed it would count.

A'isha blinked in disbelief, while many gasps from around the room met her ears. Yes, it hurt a little for a girl to be kicked there, but she would no doubt she'd be writhing on the floor if she  _had_  been a man. "Uhh…" A'isha drawled in her stupor. "Ow, shit! Ah, motherfu—"

"Holy crap!" a Rare Hunter burst out, shock ringing from his voice. "Everyone, Steve's the Terminator!"

A wail of laughter swept across the room, while in her mind, Ish was facepalming at her stupor...and yet, it seemed the men didn't suspect a thing.

"No! No! No!" another man finally shouted. "Guys, I've known Steve for a  _long_  time…and this is  _not_ Steve." He paused for a moment, and A'isha froze in utter fright. "This is The Stig!" the man spoke at last, before falling into a fit of laughter.

A'isha exhaled in ultimate relief…That is, until Amara's idiotic words met her ears. "Actually, Steve's my cousin," she stated, removing the hood that concealed Ish's true identity, and at that current moment, it also revealed her extremely infuriated look. Gasps echoed about the room, no doubt shocked at discovering Steve to be female (and they're probably terribly worried about their beloved Steve's whereabouts too).

A'isha slowly shook her head from side to side in overwhelming disbelief at her cousin's actions. "Steve…" She ground her teeth furiously, before, without warning, she sent a clenched fist spiralling through the air, and it soon came in contact with Amara's left brow. " _She's_  pissed off," A'isha roared, eyes narrowed to slits on the dumbfounded girl now slumped on the floor.

A'isha huffed, folding her arms across her chest as she couldn't resist a comment laced with sarcasm; such comments often presented themselves in situations where she was furious. "Way of crumbling my dreams to become a professional spy."

"Or a ninja," a Rare Hunter had the guts to add.

A'isha's eyes narrowed even further, if that were possible, as they averted to the man she correctly assumed had spoken. "Shut up," she bluntly ordered, grinding her teeth in rage.

The man's eyes widened as he immediately began to shove through the lines of Rare Hunters. "I'll teach  _you_ to shut up, you little-"

Abruptly, and to A'isha and Amara's surprise, the man froze mid-sentence, a goofy look upon his face as he stood motionless mid-step.

Soft steps seized A'isha's attention, and her eyes shifted to the smirking man that strolled down the steps that led to his throne. "Now now, my mindslave... Is that any way to treat a guest?"

A'isha's eyes narrowed dangerously on the blond. "Namu, you bastard!" she spat through gritted teeth.

A few Rare Hunters raised their brow in question. "Namu?" some said with confusion.

Namu merely chuckled darkly. "You still believe me to be a man named Namu?" he said with a raise of his brow.

A'isha scoffed as she eyed him pointedly. "More like a psychotic evil nutcase who belongs in a mental institute, named Namu," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Ah," Namu voiced with a snicker, coolly coming to a standstill directly before Ish. "Well then, allow me to correct you, my dear." He smirked mockingly with his next words, seeming to loom over her. "In actual fact, Namu was merely an alias to ensure that everything went according to plan."

"What?" A'isha breathed in bewilderment. "You  _planned_ all of this from the start?" She paused. "Wait- Alias? Then what's—"

"—my real name?" Namu laughed almost madly. "Oh, it's a name you are  _quite_ familiar with."

"What is it?" Impatience was etched through her voice.

"My name," the Master began, eyes narrowing darkly, "is  _Marik_."


	5. Chapter 4: Fruitless Efforts

**Chapter Four: Fruitless Efforts**

A'isha's blue orbs bulged in sheer shock, any and all colour draining from her face. She stumbled three steps back, wanting nothing more than to get away from the smirking man that seemed to loom over her. For once, she was speechless. All she could even think to do was blink incessantly in a vain attempt to awaken from this insane dream.

His cold chuckle was distant to her ears, but the words that followed hit her loud and clear. "Now, my dear," Marik began with a mad smile. "I think it only courteous that, as I've revealed  _my_ name to  _you_ ", he gestured to himself, then to her, "that you should be so kind as to reveal yours to me."

A'isha glared at him with an entirely new level of loathing. "Wh-What reason do you have for tormenting us?" she spat, certainly not intending on answering this madman's question.

Marik's eyes narrowed. "You've yet to answer my own question, so why-"

"You didn't tell me your name in the first place!" A'isha shrieked, fighting to hide her fear as she willed her eyes to pierce his. "Why should I tell you mine!?"

"If you hold no intention of answering  _willingly_ ", Marik accented the last word with a sneer, "I could always search your mind for the answer I seek."

A'isha's bewilderment was obvious, her brows furrowing. "Search my mind?" she murmured to herself, before reality hit. "With that thing you used to control Amara!"

"It seems I was correct when I thought you rather clever." He retrieved the item from somewhere beneath his cloak, raising it to trace its golden wing along her jaw line. She could tell by the mirth in his eyes that he was enjoying this way too much. It only fed her terror.

A'isha strived to keep her voice level as she asked, "When did you ever think me clever?" He cocked his head to the left, his smirk stretching. Only then did a slight gasp catch in her throat as she noticed the bruise pooled on his left cheek. The dim lighting had caught his face at just the right angle. At any other time, A'isha would've found this hilarious, but right now...she thought the opposite. Being at Marik's mercy, Ish knew if she were to bring up the blow she'd dealt to him it would only fuel his anger.

"I would advise you to watch what you say." Marik's face was firmly set, almost expressionless. She could tell he wasn't impressed. "Your face is betraying you…and my tolerance for humour is almost spent." His mood seemed to shift as a smirk slowly crept across his face. In an obvious attempt to nerve her further, he brushed a gentle finger against her left cheek with his left hand, his right still firmly gripping the rod. His attempt at nerving her worked, as all colour had now left her face.

The brazen ring of A'isha's cell phone sliced through the silence, echoing throughout the barren room. Eyeing Marik pointedly, she withdrew her cell phone from her denim shorts back pocket, which were hidden beneath the mauve cloak that hung from her frame like some dead thing. She groaned as she saw who exactly had decided to call; of all the times that would prove to be the most inconvenient, this was it. Cringing, she prayed that no one had heard her groan. Her hopes were proven futile as Marik's raspy voice met her ears.

"Answer it. You don't want to be rude now…do you?"

Scowling defiantly, A'isha hesitantly opened the flip phone, inhaling deeply before answering. "Hello?" she breathed into the speaker, avoiding Marik's stare. She knew his eyes were laughing at her misfortune.

"Hey, Ish!" came a sonorous voice. One that A'isha recognised in a heartbeat. "I just thought I'd call to see if you're free right now?" Marik smirked at this with a cock of his head. A'isha's face twisted in distaste as she figured the volume was loud enough for him to hear Dani's words. "I could stop by now seeing as you're not able to come over tonight any more?"

"Oh. I- Uhh…" A'isha was at a loss. Her mind was racing, overwhelmed by panic. What the heck was she supposed to say? Telling the truth had consequences. So did lying. "I... I'm-"

"You're sleeping with me," Marik interrupted, making the choice for her. By his casual tone, he could've been commenting on the weather.

A'isha's eyes flew wide. "Wh-What?" she whispered, utterly mortified.

Marik's eyes narrowed, flashing with a whole new level of mocking mirth. " _Ish_ …you're sleeping with me," he stated with the same prior casual tone, accenting the newly acquired detail.

A'isha placed the speaker against her chest to prevent Dani from hearing. "Never," she hissed, ultimate loathing flooding through her.

Her breath was ripped from her chest as Marik yanked her towards him by her wrist and spun her to face the lines of Rare Hunters, before pulling her back first against his chest. His grip was firm as she fruitlessly fought to create even an inch of space between them. "I suggest you reconsider," he whispered so softly that not even the speaker would pick it up. A second later, her heart screamed, pounding hard against her chest as the razor sharp wing of his Millennium Rod pricked her neck. "Or suffer unpleasant consequences if you resist…"

"Y-You bastard," she breathed, fear whisking away any and all anger that should've been etched through those words. Her grip on her sapphire blue flip phone had tightened to such levels that it shook violently.

Marik pushed the rod a little into A'isha's skin and she shuddered as no more than a trickle of warm liquid snaked down her neck. "Say it."

A'isha suppressed tears of despair, humiliated when a shaky sob escaped her lips. Sucking in a deep breath, she pressed the phone to her ear. "I-I'm with someone…"

Dani was silent for a few seconds. "Amara?" he finally asked, confusion ringing through the name.

A'isha shook her head despite the fact he couldn't see her. She knew he'd never once think she'd cheat on him. Not in a million years! "I'm…with someone else... A guy."

Another heart-battering silence... "What?" Dani whispered in obvious disbelief. "Ish, it isn't April Fools Day for another four months." He laughed, the sound awkward, half hearted and full of confusion.

Marik's eyes narrowed, although A'isha was unable to see it. She was only able to see Amara wide-eyed in horror upon the cold floor. She was only able to feel the golden rod against her neck, now heated by the warmth of her skin. She was only able to taste the hot tears that snaked down her cheeks, gathering at the corners of her lips.

"I'm being serious, Dani…" she shakily whispered. Marik's dark chuckle in her ear only fuelled the rage that burned deep within her. Oh, how she struggled to suppress it. She was sure the hopelessness that smothered that rage was the only thing keeping her from lashing out at the cocky man behind her.

"What do you mean, Ish?" Dani's tone was suddenly ridden with despair and disbelief laced into one. She felt almost physically sick by the saddening sound. "You're not...?"

"I am," she forced out. A long silence followed, panic-driven thoughts flooding through her mind. Something sparked within her. Perhaps this was a perfect opportunity… regardless of the consequences – even if  _she_  was harmed – Amara might just have a chance. "To hell with this," she said so softly not even Marik picked it up. "Dani, he's taken us! Tell Ahad we've been taken by M-"

Marik ripped the phone from her grasp, slamming it shut as he did so, and before A'isha could finish his name she found herself harshly shoved forwards. She stumbled a few steps, until her knees finally gave way and she met the hard floor. Tears of dread streamed down her cheeks. The sound of her phone being crushed into a million tiny pieces beneath leather-shoed feet seemed so distant, when compared to the painful stomps upon her broken heart.

Moments later, Marik's soft steps echoed about the vast room. "Regretfully, my dear-" his hot breath tickled her ear. She could almost feel his cocky smirk. "Your attempt at seeking rescue has proven  _oh_ so futi—"

"You heartless bastard..." a fresh voice hissed. No sooner had those words left the owner's lips did swift stomps rumble through the room, before an almost unbearable pain shot through Marik's groin. His eyes widened more than one would ever think humanly possible. "Take that, you crazy asshole!" Amara roared, now standing straight and prideful as Marik crouched a little where he stood, mere inches behind A'isha.

Grinding his teeth in a partially successful attempt at coping with the pain, Marik's attention immediately switched to the glaring girl standing before him. As he struggled to level himself to a standing position, he thrust a shaking hand towards Amara's neck and gripped it tight. "Foolish girl!" The scraping sound of her feet dragging across the floor hissed through the room, accompanied by terrified shrieks from his victim, as he stormed toward the nearest wall. His stare was venomous as he shoved her against that wall. Amara sputtered for fresh oxygen where she hung, the tips of her toes barely brushing the ground.

A'isha was ripped from her despair, hearing the choking sound of her struggling cousin. Setting aside her shock at the fact her cousin had defended her, Ish's blue eyes narrowed to slits as her seldom-noticed elder cousin protection instincts kicked in.

"Leave her alone,  _kalet_!" A'isha screamed, throwing herself off the floor to sprint toward him. She swung a leg through the air, slamming it against the back of his knee, forcing it to give way under the strain. Crying out in pain, Marik's hand left Amara's neck to clutch the back of his knee, while she sunk to the floor in a heap, gasping for cool, fresh air. Sadly, A'isha's attempted diversion didn't last long. Before either girl could think to react, Marik was spinning on his heel to face A'isha. As he did, he held his hand high, the sudden twisting of his body only strengthening the blow of his hand as the back of it slammed into A'isha's cheek. With a sharp shriek of pain, she tumbled to the harsh ground once more. The ring of metal sliced through the air. Cold claws of dread sunk into her skin, reality sinking low around her. She didn't need to look to know the cause of that sound. He'd unsheathed the artifact's dagger.

Terror coursed through her as she willed herself to look up at her assailant. If his actions so far didn't question his sanity, the malicious haze in his eyes at that moment certainly did. She sucked in air as he began to march towards her, Millennium Rod held high, the dagger gleaming ominously in the dim light overhead. Actually  _seeing_  the dagger was enough to piece together the intention. "Ge-Get away from me!" she screeched through heaves for air, desperately crawling backwards on her rear. She knew not to waste time by rising to her feet. He would definitely reach her if she did!

Relief's warmth only washed over her when Amara sprinted up behind Marik, leaping onto his back to vainly reach out for the rod, while Marik fruitlessly struggled to throw her off of him. Wasting no time by joining the Rare Hunters in gawking at the strange sight, A'isha stumbled to her feet, grasping the rod in both hands in an unannounced game of tug-of-war with the blond. "We've got a present for you, Marik!" she snidely shouted.

Although holding onto Marik for dear life, Amara managed a smirk, playing along. "Can you guess what it is?"

A'isha swung her leg where the sun don't shine, every ounce of bitter detestation she held towards him only fuelling the blow. "Merry Christmas, you demented jerk-off!" she roared, and if they'd thought Marik's eyes had flown wide before, they were in total amazement at their size now.

Amara tumbled to the ground atop Marik as A'isha yanked the rod from his grasp. It slipped through her fingers to chime continuously as it bounced and slid across the floor.

"Come on, Mar!" A'isha said, pulling Amara to her feet, then seeking her hand. With a firm grip on the girl, Ish sprinted for the exit.

"Y'know, Ish," she heard Amara say as they dashed from the room, hearing the echoes of Marik's utterly livid orders to pursue them, "I didn't know Christmas was on the fifteenth! All these years I've thought it was on December twenty fifth!" A'isha couldn't resist an eye roll at Amara's ditsy comment. She could  _not_ believe they were related!

"This way!" Ish shouted behind her, easily remembering the way she came when under her guise as Steve. They soon regained contact with the outside air. However the sweet reunion was quickly soured as they realized that the ship was half a kilometre out from the shore. A'isha quickly brought them to the rear of the ship. Gritting her teeth, she realized the circumstances were quickly growing further and further out of their favour. "We have to swim if there's even a chance of escape!"

"It's half a kilometre! I'm starting to think you're overreacting a little," Amara stated bluntly.

"If there wasn't a crazy psychopath after us, I would agree with you." A'isha heard footsteps growing closer, forcing her to make a decision. "However, given the current circumstances, we don't have a choice." She then pushed Amara over the railing, with a whispered apology, then; "You know how to swim, don't stop until you reach that shore!" A'isha breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her cousin coming up for air a few feet away. Now there was the matter of her own escape. Seeing that the cloak she was wearing had served its purpose, and would only hinder her escape, she quickly shrugged out of it. She was about to jump over the railing when one set of hands pinned her arms to her back as another grabbed her shoulders and forcefully backed her away from the railing.

"You didn't actually expect for me to keep the boat docked when the individual I sought was already in my grasp… if so, perhaps you are not as clever as I first estimated." Marik arrogantly strode past A'isha; eyes fixed on the shore.

 _Or perhaps I overestimated your ignorance,_ A'isha thought with a slight snicker accompanying her usual gesture of rolling her eyes at the sarcastic thought. The small comfort that had brought her soon left; cold fingers of dread gripping it and stifling its warmth as she saw the Millennium Rod gripped tightly in Marik's hand.

"What are you doing?" A'isha hastily said, eyes growing wide in horrified realization. She already knew the answer, and she cringed as any and all hope of rescue by Amara informing their family was painfully snatched away with not even a sliver of mercy.

Marik's gaze on the shore didn't waver when he spoke; "By the tone of your voice," he began with laughter seeping into his own, "I assume you are already aware of my intentions. It is quite unfortunate that you allowed such a vital, seemingly trivial, detail slip from your mind." A'isha glowered when his mocking chuckle shook his shoulders. She was already growing to absolutely detest it.

"Because when improvising—" she refused to say 'panicking' to the jerk "—I'd be a fool to let such minor details slip my mind, such as the fact your freaking  _twig_ can control minds?" She barely denied the enormous urge to lash out at Marik when a Rare Hunter threw a life preserver to her silently awaiting cousin. Ish grimaced a few moments later as she glimpsed two soulless, hazel eyes... her cousin's soulless, hazel eyes.

Ish's gaze soon averted to Marik once more, to find he was now watching her and not the shore. She did  _not_ like the delighted smirk her eyes immediately found plastered on his visage. She couldn't hold back a shudder when Marik closed the distance between them, smirk never wavering. In fact, it only grew as he perceived her expression, etched with preparation for another distasteful comment he was surely intending to dish out.

"I see that  _Ish_  is merely a nickname," he murmured softly, to which A'isha gasped slightly. "My gratitude to little Amara's pitiful mind. Startlingly, it has proven useful for  _one_ thing… _A'isha_." The name rolled off his tongue in triumph.

Marik's infuriating snicker made her squirm, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "You bastard!" she growled through gritted teeth.

"Now, now, my Dear A'isha; surely you can find better words to use, and certainly ones with more variety than those which you have allowed to pass your lips in the span of our second meeting." Marik chuckled darkly as he leaned way within A'isha's personal bubble to touch a tan finger to her nose, watching her face reveal an expression of fury. He chuckled more upon seeing her realize that she could do nothing to stop it. "You were certainly more cordial upon our previous meeting." He leaned his head back on his shoulders. "How is it that you cannot see that I successfully anticipated your movements since you so kindly dropped me off at the docks."

A'isha opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it again. As the old maxim went; at this point, it was better to keep her mouth shut and have Marik only think her a fool than to open her mouth and grant him the opportunity to prove it. Not that she  _was_ a fool; but she knew the blond could and would manipulate anything she said to his favour. But speaking of fools, an epiphany struck her that just could not remain unexpressed. "For someone who has been anticipating and ready to combat anything I came up with, I don't think it was very smart of you to allow the association of a name to a face- yours."

Realization minutely showed on his face, turning to a smug sneer as he suavely changed the subject. "You should be thanking me. Some individuals, when presented with the kind of influence over people that I have, could use it quite…irresponsibly."

"What…What are you saying?" A'isha asked softly.

"I am referring to little Amara, who stands before you, safe and alive. I recall informing you that I am capable of many things." Marik brushed the Millennium Rod against her cheek. "With this, Dear A'isha; I could very well have chosen for her to drown, or something far less…peaceful; this ship has a motor, after all." He paused, placing his left hand under his chin. "In retrospect, perhaps that would have been better. There would have been one less captive to look after."

"You wouldn't!" A'isha snarled.

"You are correct; even I have a minimal set of morals. I assure you that manipulating one into self-harm is not one of them, in fact; I quite detest the idea, Dear A'isha."

"Quit calling me that!" A'isha hissed.

"I know for certain that I addressed you correctly. Surely you are dear to someone…I'm certain that  _Dani_ would agree." Marik mockingly accented the name.

"How dare you!" A'isha screamed, breaking free of the two Hunters that were holding her, pushing Marik against the railing with the new fury-fuelled strength she had.

"Ish…" Amara's voice, hers alone, met A'isha's ears. "My feet are slipping!"

A'isha whipped her head back to see her cousin, precariously on the only perimeter portion of the vessel unprotected by the railing. She turned her attention back to Marik, her eyes wide with fear, overpowering the prior determination they'd held.

"You said you wouldn't…" A'isha breathed; voice almost cracking.

"You are correct; I wouldn't, unless someone were to force my hand." His eyes were laughing at her again. "And even then… there is a slim chance that I would still do something of that nature." Marik's eyes narrowed, his words laced with a warning tone. "Your little stunt almost cost your cousin her life…if you pull a stunt like that again, I won't be so inclined to release her from the hold of my Millennium Rod…and you, Dear A'isha, will always bear the guilt if harm befalls her in that circumstance." Marik grabbed A'isha roughly by the arms. "Now," Marik hissed in her ear, "seeing as your short-lived strength has left you; I suggest you don't force me to push you to rescue your cousin. Need I remind you of her…predicament?"

A'isha needed no second bidding, swiftly relinquishing her hold on Marik, to dash to her cousin and pull her to safety. A'isha shuddered as she felt her cousin shiver in her arms.

"How did I end up back here?" Amara asked innocently.

Surmising that Amara knew nothing about the Millennium Rod, A'isha sighed. "You have always had a bad sense of direction. That's how."

A'isha was relieved to at least see that Marik had left. There were still a few of the Rare Hunters out, but she assumed they were supposed to be there. But one seemed out of place. He stood near where Ish had discarded her disguise. Picking it up, he walked over to A'isha, strides smooth and silent. He was no more than a foot taller than Marik. A'isha began to shy away, but the cloaked figure placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I won't hurt you." He then indicated Amara. "We need to get her in something warm." He then wrapped the discarded cloak around Amara, lifting her out of A'isha's arms and motioned for her to follow him back inside the ship.


	6. Chapter 5: Thoughts Behind A Wall-Switch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to FreeWeirdGal for the kudos and for bookmarking this fic- and to anyone else who has checked it out since we posted this chapter! We really appreciate it! :)

**Chapter Five: Thoughts Behind A Wall-Switch**

A'isha silently kept close to the anonymous Rare Hunter who, to her surprise, had shown only kindness since he'd approached her. He held Amara's petite frame with care and ease. A'isha was understandably perplexed by this man, who she assumed to be in his mid-to-late twenties. At a first glance, she'd brushed him off as menacing due to his burly appearance. But when she had inadvertently gazed into his olive eyes, she'd seen something else...something kind. Such a contrast when compared to those of his "Master." Perhaps she could trust this man, although she'd keep her wits about her. That was her way; a way she'd stay true to regardless of what impressions others earned from her.

Clearing her throat, she intended to show at least a little cordiality—something she was quite capable of, despite what Marik had earlier stated. "Thank you", she sheepishly glanced up at the man, "for helping Amara and I."

Although A'isha obviously had a lot more to say given her current predicament, as of now she refused to share her more personal thoughts with anyone but herself. After all, gossip could weave her words all the way to Marik; something she knew couldn't possibly work in her favour.

Instead, A'isha thought up something that would strike up at least a little conversation with the man. Call it intuition, but A'isha felt he would speak kindly, unlike Marik and his other Rare Hunters had demonstrated. She also felt that he wouldn't ignore her if she spoke to him; merely remain silent if she, herself, keep quiet. "May I ask for your name?" she asked, then grimaced when she realised today's events had left her too bitter to force even a small smile.

"Odion." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "And you are A'isha, correct?"

She nodded, falling numb at the reminder of the arrogant jerk. "I think Marik established that fairly well," she continued, each and every word laced with rage as it rolled off her tongue. "Sorry for sounding so sour. I don't meant to." She sighed, rubbing her temples in frustration. "It's just that I'm...not really in the best of moods after..."

"I understand," Odion replied with a gentle nod. "That is to be expected, Miss A'isha." He ushered her into a rather small and gloomy room. The walls were a simple brown, cut into a faux brick style and the floor appeared to be made of marble. There was a single, tiny porthole built into one of the walls, allowing small streams of light to slice through a portion of the simple space.

"What's this?" A'isha said with a quirk of her brow, disbelief heavy in her words. "You're not- This isn't-!"

"I'm afraid Master Marik would wish for your cousin and yourself to remain…confined," Odion informed in slight unease as he set the surprisingly silent, soaked and shivering, but still-conscious Amara onto a plain, single bed; the only piece of furniture within the room, save for a heater and a bed side table. A'isha was grateful for that at least, for her cousin's sake.

"Why does that not surprise me?" A'isha muttered more to herself. Her next words were loud and clear; "For how long will we be  _confined_?" The last word was stressed almost as if it were agonizing for A'isha to say. That in itself was the understatement of the century.

"A day at best." She could detect the regret in his tone, along with the sympathy on his face.

"That raises several questions." A'isha heaved a sigh of irritation. "One: Where are we going? Two: Where is our bathroom?" She paused, right hand's index and middle finger stretched while the rest remained inhibited. "And, three: What of Amara? She's freezing; I doubt that heater will do much and the last thing she needs right now is to get sick!"

"Regarding your third inquiry, I assure you that I will do everything that I can to see that your cousin is well cared for." Odion shook his head as if slightly puzzled. "As for the matter of your second question, every room should have hygienic facilities where that wall is…" He indicated the wall opposite the door, "including this one. Come to think about it…there should be another bed as well."

"Are you saying this room was modified? And that you have no idea when or who made the modifications?"A'isha had more than a mere idea of  _who_ might have done it but the questions of w _hy_ and  _how_  remained.

Odion remained silent for a few moments. A'isha wondered if he was thinking through what was best to say and what was better left unsaid or if a certain manipulative jerk was speaking through his little magic twig to him. That was plausible, though wouldn't his eyes have gone all blank and hazy like Amara's? "It was modified," he finally said; "By whom, I'm afraid I am uncertain."

A'isha found herself doubting his second statement, but decided to actually play dumb for once. "Alright, Odion. Thank you…again."

Odion nodded sombrely. "I shall be leaving now, but know that I will return to aid your cousin." He strode for the exit to the room that would serve as their confinement. "Food will be brought to you when the time calls for it."

A'isha breathed a grim sigh as the click of the door echoed about the room. The absence of conversation only made the painfully silent space feel that much more gloomy.

Sighing once more as she gave the room a once over, A'isha was sure she'd glimpsed a flash of green from the corner of her eye. Her head quickly snapped to the location she was sure it had been. Her blood really began to boil at what she saw: a small camera set near the ceiling in one corner of the room. "Marik!" she hissed the loathed name through clenched teeth. "You're a sick, twisted pervert!" She marched up against the wall opposite the door to bang her fists against it, gritting her teeth. She was tempted to take her cousin's old habit of locking herself in the bathroom. Only problem; there was no bathroom to be seen.

The green light of the blasted security camera caught her eye.  _Maybe the bathroom is hidden like that camera- Actually, it wasn't really hidden._  She banged against the wall again.  _But where?_ She straightened, realising the wall had sounded hollow as she'd slammed her fists against it. This time, she delicately knocked on the wall, hearing it echo. She then moved to the left, closer to the corner. She tapped the wall in the same manner. This portion sounded more solid. "So is there some sort of secret switch?" A'isha murmured to herself.

"Why yes, there is." A'isha turned to see Amara wearing  _Marik's_ smirk.

"You have a lot of nerve doing this kind of thing so soon," A'isha hissed.

"And you seem to need direction in numerous areas aside from your current predicament," her controlled cousin stated bluntly. "What you seek is on your right." The monotone voice supplied. "Stop when you pass the hollow-sounding part of the wall." A'isha sighed with a reluctant roll of her eyes as she followed the instructions. She stopped at said location.

"Well, anything else?" A'isha asked hotly.

"Surely you know by now that I have never given you all the answers; you've had to deduce some of them for yourself," the monotone voice stated.

"That's not helping," A'isha mumbled through clenched teeth, applying pressure to the wall with no specific guidance.  _He is no doubt laughing at me-_ A'isha yelped as a tile sank underneath her fingers, hearing a mechanized clicking sound. She watched speechlessly as the hollow portion of the wall slid to the right, revealing not only a bathroom but a small closet as well.  _Just peachy, is Marik some sort of Wall-Switch Lover too?_

"Okay; seriously," A'isha growled with another roll of her eyes, "if I ever need an interior designer, remind me never to call  _you_!" Her hands curled into fists as Marik's arrogant laugh entwined with that of her cousin's. "Who said I was joking?" she spat as she cautiously took a step into the tiny room. She knew not to enter it entirely, needing to make sure a switch was set upon the wall within the bathroom; therefore allowing her to return to the "bedroom" should the door close on her. Thankfully, there was one.

Satisfied at this, A'isha entered the room entirely, half hoping the door would close with "Amara" still remaining in the bedroom and, more importantly, away from her. It didn't.

"How does one close this door when inside the bathroom?" she asked, faking ignorance.

Controlled Amara stiffly swayed a finger back and forth as she clucked her tongue. "Leaving little Amara alone so soon?"

"It's not Amara I wish to leave," she muttered. "You fail to see that you've proven to be quite the pervert; forcing me to imply to Dani that I'm sleeping with you." She ground her teeth irately. "How do I know there isn't a camera in here?" She gestured to the bathroom. "Even if I can't see it, knowing the technology nowadays and what I know about you, one could still be in here."

Amara's eyes narrowed slightly. "You would doubt me no matter which answer I gave you," he murmured through poor Amara.

"I'm amazed. I actually agree with you there." A'isha huffed, glancing at the switch, not as well-hidden as the first, within the bathroom. She leaned against a small cupboard with a built-in sink behind her, taking note that the interior of the bathroom bore the same faux brick style. "I don't need your assistance with this,  _cuz_ ," she growled, spitefully accenting the unusual address. She calmly pressed her hand to the switch and applied a fair amount of pressure upon it. "Adios," Ish stated in false kindness. Through Amara's eyes, Marik caught a glimpse of a cocky smirk and a brief wave; then, he heard the echoed click of the wall as it came to a close.

Although he could simply activate the switch once more to reveal the bathroom, Marik saw no further reason to control Amara at this present time. He released his hold upon Amara's exhausted mind. At this, Amara slumped back into the pillows upon the bed she had never left, asleep.

* * *

A'isha breathed a soft sigh as the harmonic trickling of water from the sink met her ears. She ran her hands beneath the cool water, momentarily savouring its refreshing chill; and then she cupped her hands beneath the tap and threw the water against her face. Her cheeks were flushed red with anger…and she refused to admit they were also flushed red with  _fear_. A fear brought forth by Marik's presence, simply by his air of arrogance and superiority, and his exploitation of the knowledge that  _he_ was in control, and had been from their first encounter.

She flicked off the tap with a sigh and with her back against the cupboard, she allowed her back to slide down the cupboard's side until her body met the ground. She grimaced upon hearing the faucet begin to drip in steady half-second intervals. "I sure hope there isn't a camera in here." Upon examining the room intently, she couldn't see one, but of course that didn't prove that there  _wasn't_ one set up somewhere.

 _I wouldn't be surprised_ , she bitterly thought,  _and I suppose it'd be safe to think in my mind instead of aloud…for once in my life. The last thing I need is for Marik to hear my thoughts._  She groaned upon realising he was quite capable of doing that by force – maybe even without her knowledge – thanks to his Millennium Rod.

A'isha's chin met her chest as her thumb and index finger rubbed her temples. Stress was taking its toll on her mind and body, courtesy of today's unbelievable dramas. How could this have happened? Why did she deserve this? To suffer an ordeal that should've been nothing more than a sad story on the news, or an article in the paper?

A'isha heaved a gloomy sigh. Of course she didn't deserve this. No one deserved to be kidnapped, threatened, attacked. This was just insane. She pursed her lips in barely successful attempt to suppress a pitiful sob.  _So why me?_  Her eyes narrowed, bitterness overtaking sorrow as she slammed a balled fist hard into the wall. She hardly registered the tingling pain that followed the action.  _Haven't I been through enough drama to last a lifetime? Haven't I suffered enough?_ Her fist slid down the wall, sinking back to her side.  _My parents were killed by a drunk driver... a stupid, selfish, bastard drunk driver!_

This time, she failed to bite back a sob. Her parents untimely demise still slaughtered her inside, no matter how hard she tried not to think about it. Such a feat was impossible at the best of times, let alone now, while at the mercy of a mind-controlling madman.

Being raised by her aunt and uncle didn't help. They appeared to be loving, doting caregivers, when in reality they were as selfish and ignorant as their brat of a daughter. Amara was always spoiled; she got a PlayStation for her tenth birthday and a party, while she got ten bucks inside an old Christmas card. While she probably should have been grateful to receive something, that gratitude was stifled by the simple fact that it showed she was always beneath her cousin.

A'isha's fists curled at her sides once more.  _I was always the babysitter, forced to take on the role of the "older sibling" far sooner than any child should._ Her eyes clenched shut in a semi-successful attempt to withhold unshed tears. For once, why couldn't something work out for  _her?_  Why couldn't something go  _her_  way?

Tears finally fell.

A'isha doubted anything would ever go her way. She'd forever be a victim of misery's cruel hands, dealing with circumstances that were often only exacerbated by Amara's involvement. Things rarely seemed to work out for her. At least not for long. Something was always on her mind, burdening her jaded self as that something stewed just beneath the surface.

Today's ordeal was just another example of the drama that was her life... granted this was on a much grander and more terrifying scale.

_Aside from the fact I had the misfortune of learning his name thanks to that stupid Rare Hunter who stole that deck from me, this whole thing has been Amara's fault. She let him in. She broke the rules of her punishment...twice._

A'isha narrowly resisted the urge to slam her fist against the wall once more, picturing it as the girl's head. Or Marik's. Either worked.

 _Aside from her phone getting a little water damage – never mind that mine was crushed beyond repair – Amara has gotten off pretty easy._ She sighed, knowing that wasn't exactly true. Amara was now subject to the ever-changing whims of a mind-controlling maniac. That realisation left her pitying the younger girl. Did Amara deserve that? No... No one did. The only other thing that brought forth feelings of pity from A'isha regarding Amara's circumstance was that she had no knowledge of the recent usurps of her mind.

 _Though if she did know, Mar would exist in perpetual fear of another usurp of her mind... of her will. That's something that_ no one  _should have to fear!_

A'isha sucked in air, then exhaled slowly. This topic definitely wasn't one she wished to focus on. None of these topics of contemplation suited her, but what could she expect given recent circumstances?

Trembling slightly, A'isha pulled a sweat-laden lock of hair away from where it had stuck to her cheek. All these thoughts had done was agitate her mind further, and right now, a  _level_  head was what A'isha needed. Right now, she just wanted to stuff her face with an enormous block of chocolate- preferably filled with hazelnut mousse. Right now, she just wanted to run into Dani's reassuring embrace. Right now, she just wanted Marik to be decapitated and served on a silver platter, but preferably not to her. And right now, she needed these fantasies to dissolve into a clear guarantee. A guarantee that she and Amara would return home safely... that the manipulative jerk named Marik would be brought to justice's proud hands. Unfortunately, right now, A'isha knew that was merely wishful thinking.

With a sigh, another question scribbled itself onto the long list in her flustered mind. What had led Amara to act as she had when Marik had intimidated her…in a way she would have never acted? In slightly similar situations, Amara had simply laughed at and prolonged her suffering. Was this whole ordeal any different?

The sound of the dripping faucet lulled her to sleep, allowing that question to linger in her brain.


	7. Chapter 6: Glances At Freedom

**Chapter Six: Glances At Freedom**

Time had passed with its slow silent march when A'isha awoke from her catnap. She ran her hands through her hair with a sigh of disgust as she saw her reflection in the mirror; she looked like she had survived her own personal tornado. She had, and she wished she had survived an actual wind-storm rather than what she'd actually endured. This was a reality of which she was all too painfully aware that she'd been hurled into. Years after the fact, she was still aware that fate took great pleasure in reminding her that she was merely its pawn to be toyed with.

A'isha slowly stepped out of the bathroom, slightly alarmed that she was met by a wall. Wishing to do nothing aside from strangle the Wall-Switch happy jerk, she ran her fingernails along the concealment. She was certain that somewhere, the egomaniac in question most certainly enjoyed the fact that she was in his captivity, and had walked right into it no less. This being at the forefront of her mind, she irately took two steps back and struck the switch, grinding her teeth in time with the clicking mechanisms of the sliding wall.

A'isha stepped out of the area between the bathroom and the newly revealed room. She decided against bothering to look for the switch that would conceal it. The slightly humorous image of Amara frantically looking for it crossed her mind, but she realised that it was merely a wishful thought.

Pacing towards and glancing out the single porthole within the room, she was silently assured that darkness had now chased away the light of day. A'isha was unsure of exactly how long she'd managed to escape to her dreams, a place that somehow made more sense than her current predicament; but she  _ _did__ know that the tray of food that rested upon the bedside table, beside the sparsely illuminating lamp that occupied a good portion of the desk, was now stone cold. "Perfect. Cold soup and slightly stale bread; my absolute favourite!" She concluded she must've been asleep when Odion had brought their dinner; however, it was clear that Amara had slurped down her share, when considering the sparse quantity of food that remained.

And speaking of Amara, she laid quietly beneath the sheets of the room's sole, single bed. A'isha would've believed her cousin to be sound asleep, if she hadn't been breathing quite shallowly. The girl usually snored.

With a faint sigh, Ish sombrely trailed her way over to the porthole. She was certain Amara had opened one eye to sneak a peek at her. A'isha could picture Mar's face buried solemnly into the blankets, her eyes the only features exposed as she peered over at her. A'isha wished she had a blanket for herself, so that she too could seek out the warmth and false security it must have offered.

A'isha slumped against the nearest wall, half of the remaining bread and what remained of the soup resting in her arms. She had left the spoon alone on the tray. Regardless of whether it was clean, A'isha was not particularly fond of sharing  _ _anything__ with Amara, including food and utensils. Unfortunately, in these circumstances she had no choice in the matter of sharing the food. She would have to simply accept them as they were.

"You probably don't want to eat that soup," Amara stated, a hostile tone underlining the understandably groggy manner in which the words were spoken.

"Why not?" A'isha growled. "Are you going to add that I can't have any of the bread as well?" She set the bread in the bowl, and the bowl on the small side table that she had just now noticed on her left; then she stood, facing the wall.

"No. The robed guy who brought the tray noticed that you weren't in the room and said he'd keep your portion warm," Amara almost squeaked.

"How do I know you're not lying?" A'isha said, more irritable from the day's events than she would have first thought.

"You wanna pick a fight with me, Ish?"

"Actually yes I think I do."

"I'm not lying!"

"Yes, you are," Ish stated hotly, knuckles going white. "Seeing as I have your undivided attention, I figure it best to seize this opportunity while I can."

"What opportunity?" Amara bluntly inquired. "In case you've forgotten…we're on a boat, headed to who knows where."

"All the while we're at the whims of a certifiably insane teenage boy who has an incredibly swollen ego; a situation we wouldn't be in if  _ _you__ ", she pointed to Amara for emphasis, "hadn't let said ego-swollen psycho into the house!" At this point, she'd lost any self-control she had.

"How could I have known that a guy so good-looking had mental issues?"

"If you had just respected the restrictions of your punishment, you wouldn't have needed to know!"

"So  _ _that's__ what this is really about?" Amara barked.

"If it makes you happy; then YES, it  _is_ all about you!" A'isha hissed vehemently. "Are you happy now?"

A'isha minutely noted that her cousin's eyes grew dull and soulless, barely registering what that meant. She rubbed her temples as she heard the sound of a lock's tumblers and the subsequent turn of the knob.

"You must be quite talented, Dear A'isha." She tensed at the laugh that laced the intruder's tone as he sauntered into the room, staying near the doorway. "You can strike Little Amara speechless with mere words."

"What the hell are  _ _you__ doing here?" A'isha turned swiftly on her heel, in no mood to placate the jerk in any fashion at this point. "You walk around like you… own the… place." Her face fell as the idiocy of what passed her lips hit her; though to her surprise, the jerk merely wore a smirk, rather than seizing the opportunity to insult her further. "I hate you," she stated with blunt vehemence.

"Hate is such a strong word." His voice was soft but the smirk remained as he saw her tense. "I cannot fathom why you would possibly use it." His tone regained a bit more of its former grate with his next phrase. "However, your apparent hatred of me is accomplishing something."

"And that would be?" A'isha arched a brow inquisitively, annoyed by the ever-present smirk that was lightly set into Marik's face.

He stifled an amused chuckle at her almost audacious curiosity-driven remark. "It is keeping things… interesting." He took a step to the right. "You probably wonder why I have chosen to grace you with my presence; after all, I wouldn't exactly classify our last encounter as…an amicable one."

"Amicable?" A'isha stepped directly in front of him, pressing her finger into his shirt, an accusatory tone lining her voice with her next phrase. "You brainwash and kidnap my cousin and subsequently kidnap me, threaten us both, and you expect me to be  _amicable_?" She couldn't keep her voice from rising to a shriek.

The voice of A'isha's tormentor was soft, only serving to nerve her further. "'Brainwashing'", the tone of distaste was evident as the word left his lips, "is a word that already has a negative connotation. I prefer to use the term 'Subtle Persuasion', as it seems more neutral."

"What's so subtle about the use of a stick to accomplish it?" A'isha countered, voice lined with the sharp edge of annoyance.

"That is none of your concern," he snapped back, words icily tense. Bipolar much? "Aside from that, you still are unaware of why I am here." He leaned against a small table outside of the room.

"You mean you're here for some reason other than to torment me?" A'isha drawled lightly.

"Dear A'isha, I need no reason for toying with those emotions of yours that seem more disposed to the more heated feelings of anger, displeasure, and disappointment; I could simply go on but I assume you can get a picture." He took a step out of the room, leaning out of A'isha's sight. The action granted her a slight glimpse at some sort of freedom; however, even if all of the possible elements were in her favour, now would be the worst time to attempt an impromptu escape.

Of course, all of her prior planning had gotten her nowhere except right into his hands. She released a soft sigh, allowing her façade of annoyance to slip very briefly.

Her "tormentor" leaned back into her line of sight and perhaps caught a glimpse of her worn face before her façade returned; but if Marik had seen, he gave no indication as he returned to A'isha's view, holding a tray in his hands. He watched her warily eye the steaming soup and bread.

"You're wasting your time with that soup. There's no way I'm drinking even the slightest sip of it." A'isha stated hotly, narrowing her eyes. "It's probably been tampered with."

A'isha caught a glimpse of the hallway again as Marik placed the bowl on the outside end table. "Why is it that you think my primary aim is to do you harm of the most grievous nature? After all, there are far easier ways to accomplish that. And there have already been numerous opportunities." A smirk inched across Marik's countenance as he watched the girl before him squirm. He crossed his arms over his chest after he lost interest in that reaction. "This is the only sustenance you will receive," the blond bluntly stated. "I would think that even you realise that I will not be too keen if you expire due to a refusal to eat. A lifeless hostage would be useless to me."

"You didn't seem concerned when you casually suggested that my cousin meeting her end by the motor of this slave ship wouldn't bother you," A'isha stated pointedly. "In fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised if this soup were poisoned."

Marik merely sneered, amusement lining his tone as he spoke after half a minute. "How intriguing; you actually think that there is a small part of me that cares of what becomes of you and your pitiful cousin."

" _ _Don't__ call her pitiful," she spat icily.

"Why shouldn't I?" Marik inquired softly, the volume carrying to his next sentence. "From only hours of observation, it is clear that you consider her a pathetically spoiled girl who has just had everything handed to her." A'isha opened her mouth to speak but Marik continued. "That was merely what I gathered from hearing your little…spat from behind the door. It doesn't seem fair…does it?"

"Nothing's fair." Ish shook out of mild ire. "You've abducted me out of fear that the authorities would learn of your actions. You've imprisoned my cousin and I against our wills just because one of your idiots let your name slip. You've forced me to lie to my boyfriend, by making me lie that I cheated and slept with you." Her face twisted in disgust at that particular fact. "Furthermore, you hide behind the power of a stick while exposing the vulnerabilities of those around you, not hesitating to make use of the knowledge you gain from your victim." She glared at him with her next statement. "To me, the only pitiful one here is you."

"You think me pitiful?" he inquired hotly, encircling his left hand around A'isha's right wrist. She didn't miss the hostility that burned in his irises, but stubbornness willed her to maintain eye contact.

"You're the one who was attacked by two girls who screwed with your masculinity not only mentally, but also below the belt...twice within minutes."

A pang of pain jolted up her wrist as his grip tightened. "How quickly you forget," he whispered. "You're at my mercy", his eyes narrowed threateningly, "and therefore, in no position to mock me."

"You just said that a lifeless hostage would be useless to you," she pressed, "so that threat means nothing to me."

"You fail to remember that I am capable of many things, some of which would make you wish you  _ _were__ dead," Marik hissed, his voice possessing nothing resembling his gentle inquiries. At this, A'isha's boldness was once more depleted. Her eyes travelled down to his wrist, his veins bulging as he maintained a tight grip on her own wrist. She noted during their first meeting still silently ticked. Marik's eyes followed hers, before remembrance flickered within them, and his callous smirk returned as he finally released her wrist.

A'isha's wrist ached immediately, but she refused to address that detail and expose any form of weakness. She knew he was in complete control, but like his rod manipulated the minds of his victims, her stubbornness and pride manipulated her.

"I expect to see that bowl empty upon my return." His words were stern, but the smirk remained.

A'isha watched, a scowl permanent upon her face, as he turned in a suave manner she couldn't help but notice. Suave certainly didn't fit the arrogant jerk she detested so much. Her heart dropped as the click of the door met her ears, and freedom was once again out of reach.


	8. Chapter 7: The Proposal

**Chapter Seven: The Proposal**

A'isha breathed a jaded sigh as she leaned back against the faux brick wall. It wasn't exactly comfortable on her back but, of course, Amara had taken the bed for herself. Even if the girl hadn't been submerged in water when they'd first been stuck on this slave ship, Ish knew Mar would've claimed the bed without so much as suggesting a friendly game of 'paper scissors rock'.

An empty bowl sat upon the bedside table next to A'isha, confirming that hunger had finally conquered her stubborn nature. When she had at last eaten the stone cold soup, she'd made sure to plaster a sour look upon her face in case the jerk was watching through his creeper-cam. She'd sighed between swallows, silently regretting neglecting the soup for a few hours. It probably would've been more pleasing to her tastes if it  _had_  been hot.

A'isha's attention was stolen by the faint sound of conversation beyond the same wall she leaned against, beyond which was the boat's deck and, by extension, the fresh air of freedom that jerk face was so infuriatingly denying her. Thinking she might have been hearing things, she glanced up at the small porthole for a few moments before curiosity got the best of her and she quickly rose to her feet. Turning to face the porthole as she did, she could see that they had docked. From what she could see in the dull light of dawn, the area looked similar in structure to the docks in Alexandria, so she assumed they were still in Egypt.

 _Let's hope it stays that way,_ she considered grimly, before a particular blond caught her eye. He wore well-fitted beige cargo pants, along with a plain black tank top and navy blue leather shoes, the colour of his shirt and shoes reversed from their first meeting. The jewellery that adorned his arms remained the same. She wasn't sure about his attire during their second meeting as a mauve cloak had been the only visible article. A'isha snapped from her thoughts as Marik pulled a grey helmet with black goggles from an unseen cargo area and placed it on his head, and adjusted it leaving the headwear to be fastened as he carefully stepped backward to ease a motorcycle out of that same cargo area.

From what A'isha could see, the wooden docks criss-crossed and the jerk could take the vehicle through any of the myriad of intersections to get to the main entry point from the land. A'isha watched, silently steaming as Marik gripped the handlebars of the crimson motorcycle and had the nerve to roll it past her little porthole. His lavender eyes met her blue ones for a moment and his lips curved into a smirk when she returned his stare with venomous eyes.

It was five seconds feeling like that many minutes. Neither his smirk, nor her glare wavered. He sauntered off and A'isha heard the brazen sound of a motor fade into the distance about half a minute after that. Unimpressed, she huffed, turning her gaze to the opposite wall. It had the same faux brick pattern as the rest of the room, but it strangely seemed more pronounced directly in front of her. She hated this room so much.

A'isha kicked off her shoes angrily, unconcerned of waking Amara as she heard the satisfying THUD of her footwear against the wall. She blinked as the sound reverberated slightly. The wall was hollow. She stepped towards it, barely avoiding tripping over her discarded shoes. She sidestepped to the far left and applied pressure with a hand against the wall at chest level. Her brows rose as a tile began to sink underneath her palm.

The wall slid to the right to reveal a bare mattress and a linens cabinet. A'isha knelt on the mattress and carefully opened the cabinet, pleased to not only find white sheets in the left half but also white bath towels and wash-cloths in the right. A'isha was torn between happy and ripping someone's head off. Sure, she had a place to sleep but there was no pillow in sight. Sighing somewhat ruefully, she put sheets on the bed – using one as a make-shift pillow – and flopped down on it. The bed was hard as a rock, though if she was on her stomach, it was bearable. Anything was better than the walls she had been sleeping on lately. That thought was her last before she succumbed to sleeps soothing calls.

A'isha wasn't sure of exactly how much time had passed when unwelcomed nudges jerked her from her sleep. She heard someone whisper her name, and after an irritated groan left her lips, she opened one eye to find Amara leaning over her.

"What is it?" A'isha asked, her tone a bit more bitter than she'd intended.

"I wanna have a shower, Ish," she groaned back. "Where are the towels?"

A'isha barely lifted her arm to gesture to the cabinet to her side. "In there… And you remember how to use those blasted wall-switches?"

"I think so…"

"Good," A'isha said simply. "Now can I return to sleeping?"

Amara murmured a "yes" and A'isha heard the low rumbling of the shifting wall as the bathroom was revealed, then closed once more. She breathed a contented sigh at the idea of solitude being her only company…if only for a short while. Only when silence enveloped the room did she hear the faint hum of that blasted camera. She ground her teeth at the discomforting reminder that she was always being watched. This thought was ridden in her mind as she threw her nearby shoe at the camera with a growl, before slapping the make-shift pillow over her head.

A'isha found that thought diminishing as she felt herself drifting off. She barely even registered the jiggling of the lock. But her eyes went wide when loud, uncalculated footsteps met her ears. Footsteps she wasn't familiar with.

A'isha pushed the make-shift pillow to her side to look to her left, but before she could look a shocked scream involuntarily left her lips as she was mercilessly pulled from the bed by her arm. As her body met the hard marble floor beneath her, a menacing laugh met her ears. "All alone…" She was spun from her stomach like a ragdoll to feel the cold marble floor against her clothed back, and when she stared up she was met by a wicked grin and two grey eyes, as stone cold as their colour. "Are we, girly?"

A'isha's eyes narrowed as his eyes wandered up and down her.

"We don't get a lot of… _entertainment_ around here," he leered, and A'isha's nose crinkled in disgust at both his smell and his words.

As he leaned over her, A'isha spotted her remaining sneaker less than an arm's length away, partially tucked under her mattress; her lips curved into a slight smirk upon remembering the shoe was steel-capped. She had no trouble reaching it and, before the Rare Hunter could retaliate, she lashed it across his face. He cried out in pain, his hand impulsively gripping the slash upon his left cheek as he fell to her side.

A'isha silently thanked her dancing skills as she leapt to her feet with ease. She was relieved to find the Rare Hunter had left the door unlocked as she swung it open and sprinted down the hall. She heard the thudding sound of his steps as he pursued her. Fortunately, she was a fast runner.

She glanced over her shoulder to find he was no less than ten meters behind her, before she skidded to a halt to dash around a corner. She turned her attention to her front just in time to catch two wide lavender eyes. Air shot from her lungs as she painfully slammed into Marik. She gripped his shoulders to regain her balance. "I'm not trying to escape, Marik, I swear," she cried quickly as she hid behind him.

As the words left her lips, the Rare Hunter came to a halt before them and his eyes went wide when his gaze was met by his Master's narrowed ones.

"M-Master—please, I—" A'isha watched in slight confusion as Marik silently raised the Millennium Rod. Suddenly, it gleamed almost blindingly and an ear piercing scream met her ears. She instinctively clenched her eyes shut, raising her arms to block out the bright light. Beneath closed lids, she could tell that the light had subsided.

A'isha's eyes opened just in time to see the man slump lifelessly to the floor. Her eyes widened in horror.

"Oh—Oh my God," she whispered, mortified as she stumbled away from Marik in fear. "You…You killed him."

Marik spun to face her with narrowed eyes. "I sent his soul to the shadows," he hissed through clenched teeth. "I wouldn't kill anyone."

"Is there a difference?" A'isha screeched, horrified by the newly discovered ability the rod possessed. "Without his soul his body will die, won't it?"

Marik's visage turned firm, his lips forming a stern line. "You should consider yourself lucky," he murmured softly. "I disposed of him before his intentions could ring true."

Anger sparked within her at his nonchalance. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she hissed, sarcasm strung through her words. "Should I be  _flattered_ right now?"

Marik frowned as he took two calculated steps towards her, closing the distance that the girl had created. "I could have allowed his intentions to come into fruition."

A'isha rolled her eyes. "We both know you wouldn't want your goons thinking they could disobey their  _Master_."

Marik's frown curved further. "Perhaps I found his intentions rather…distasteful."

A'isha's blood boiled, the first thought to present itself being that he was insulting her. "What's that supposed to mean?" she hissed, fists clenched at her side. "I've had more boyfriends than  _you_ and you're insulting  _my_ looks?"

Marik's frown curved into a smirk. "I'd be insulted if you hadn't had more boyfriends than me." His smirk grew upon hearing A'isha growl.

"Y-You know what I mean!" she stuttered, her cheeks flushing red as the small fact that she'd thrown herself right into that one irked her brain. Marik somewhat roughly grabbed her arm. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

"I don't think that room is the best place for you to be after that…rather traumatic experience." He tugged the girl to follow him, not relaxing his grip on her arm.

"Can you please let go of my arm? I told you I wasn't trying to escape." A'isha was grateful that her legs could move fast enough to keep him from literally having to drag her.

"I would much rather ensure it this way than simply take your word for it." His pace never lessened as he opened a door and pulled them inside a room.

The first thing that A'isha saw was a sink and a refrigerator. "Why are we in a kitchen?"

"It's semi-private, something necessary for what I am about to do."

"If what you're about to do is as suggestive as it sounds then consider yourself sterile." A'isha growled, resignedly took a seat in a chair at the table, farthest away from Marik.

"Memory fails you quickly. Not only did I just prevent that very scenario, I recall stating only yesterday that even I have a minimal set of morals." Marik plucked something from the fridge and placed it behind the coffee maker, after which he slid a black mug closer to the appliance and removed the glass container. He tilted the container into the mug, the brown beverage steaming in the mug. He paused, before pulling out a second, tan, mug from a cabinet. "How do you take your coffee?"

"Do you by any chance know how to make a mochachino?"

"I'm afraid not Dear A'isha. I can put some chocolate syrup in it if that will suffice."

"Just three teaspoons of sugar then." She watched him plunk the contents of three spoons into the tan mug. He then placed the mug across from her. "Why didn't you set it in front of me?"

"Patience, Dear A'isha." Marik suddenly thrust the mug in her direction. A'isha waited in terror to feel the hot liquid soak her. To her shock, the cup came to rest directly in front of her, without a single drop missing from it.

"How did you do that?"

"It's a gift." He grabbed his own mug and the mystery object and sat across from her. He slid the mystery object toward her in the same manner as the mug, without the same degree of success. It fell into A'isha's hands, which went instinctively to catch it.

"Apparently your gift doesn't work with" She glanced at the object now resting in her hands "a chocolate bar?" A'isha snickered quietly. "You are full of surprises today."

"It was intended to be for me," Marik breathed, before drawing his mug to his lips. A'isha thought she caught the remnants of a smile when he set the mug back on the bench. "But I think you need it more than I do."

A'isha's expression reflected her confusion at his sudden chivalry. "Thanks," she drawled, staring at the chocolate bar for a long, hesitant moment before she finally ripped it open. She took a small bite from the milk chocolate candy. Her taste buds seemed to sing when she quickly realised the centre was filled with soft, hazelnut mousse; her favourite. But pride refused to show it on her face.

"There is something I need from you."

The chocolate suddenly tasted acidic. "This is bribery, isn't it?" Marik smirked. A'isha bit her lower lip. "You can take the chocolate back."

"Oh the chocolate was not a method of bribery, Dear A'isha. You really look as though you need it."

"Gee, thanks." A'isha stated somewhat sourly, giving perhaps a second of thought before taking a bigger bite of the chocolate.

"Perhaps what I am about to introduce would be better thought of as a favour." He sipped at his coffee again.

"A favour for what?"

Marik smirked. "You don't realize how lucky you were to run into me."

"Right now, I'm not feeling so lucky." A'isha drank from her mug.

"You will be accompanying me on a small business dinner at the end of this week as my fiancée."

A'isha coughed and sputtered mid-swallow. She grabbed a napkin and was oh so very thankful that she hadn't sprayed Marik. She sighed, sopping up the liquid that soaked areas of the table. "And suddenly my last sentence is an understatement." She shook. "You really think I- you really think I would do that?"

"This is not negotiable." Marik leaned onto his elbows. "But I may as well sweeten the deal, so to speak."

"So  _that's_ the reason for the chocolate."

"For the last time, the chocolate was never a bribe."

"Why not Amara?"

Marik was frank as he continued, ignoring A'isha's inquiry. "Would I better secure your cooperation if I were to grant you more freedom aboard this vessel?"

A'isha swirled her coffee in the mug, looking as if she was giving thought to the idea. "Answer my question first. Why not Amara?"

Marik smiled. "You can act." He stood and stepped around the kitchen, still able to see the girl from the corner of his eye. "Besides, your cousin's lack of tact is the primary reason you find yourself in this little situation."

"If I refuse?"

"Once more, this is not negotiable."

"Fine." A'isha reluctantly downed the last of her coffee.

"I knew you would see it my way, with proper incentive."

"Whatever." A'isha huffed as she crossed her arms. "Proper incentive would actually be letting my cousin and I go!"

"That's not an option, Dear A'isha."

"It was worth a shot." A'isha sighed. "Before we seal this deal I want to make sure it's worth my while."

"I'm listening."

"I'd simply love a personal tour of this boat, starting on deck. For all I know you could just be giving me more space to sit on my butt and do a whole lotta nothing in."

"Of course, Dear A'isha." Marik returned back to his seat and downed the rest of his coffee. He stood and watched A'isha rise from her seat. "Follow me." He stepped out to hold the door. A'isha sighed as she exited the door.

Marik grabbed A'isha's shoulders after she exited the door. "You still aren't going to try and escape?"

"Honestly, do you think I'd get very far?"

"You're learning." A'isha could hear the smirk on his face as Marik released her. "Now, shall we begin your tour?"

A'isha reluctantly sighed, following Marik down the hall.


	9. Chapter 8: A'isha's Proposition

**Chapter Eight: A'isha's Proposition**

Marik pulled A'isha down a myriad of hallways that she couldn't hope to remember off the top of her head. As much as she hated to admit it, she was mildly impressed with the screwball's memory. No doubt he'd trailed through these halls many a time.

After trailing through enough corridors to bring on a headache, A'isha noticed a door that seemed out of place. It was unlike the plain, mahogany doors she'd noticed scattered through the corridors just now. It was a glossy metal door with a small porthole carved into it. Through the double-glazed glass she could distinguish an expanse of turquoise stretching out for miles. Marik paused before it to grip the handle. He effortlessly eased it open to step to the side and hold it ajar for her, the gag-worthy picture of a gentleman. "Ladies first," he suggested, smirking all the whiled

A'isha rolled her eyes as she stepped out onto the starboard deck, the cool ocean breeze instantly brushing past her skin. "With the amount of makeup and jewellery you wear," she muttered under her breath to ensure he wouldn't hear, "I'd think  _you_  should go first." She almost forgot that comment when she truly took in the sight before her.

The sky was a strong shade of blue, with not a puff of cloud in sight, and the sapphire sea shimmered in the sunlight, unravelling out to the horizon in the direction she assumed led to Europe. She realized that they were now anchored out in a bay that belonged to the town they'd previously made port at. Marik must've used that rod of his to instruct his creeps to leave the docks and anchor in deeper waters.

A'isha momentarily wondered how far Marik wished to travel with Amara and herself as his captives. Would their beloved land of Egypt – the place they called home – soon come and go with the tide? Certainly their hope of escape was swimming further and further out of reach as the distance between them and Alexandria increased. She was snapped from her thoughts when Marik spoke up.

"I take it you'll be spending a lot of your time out here?" His voice was surprisingly calm, gentle even. "That is, should you agree to this deal," he added, his tone regaining a hint of iciness.

"A bit of fresh air never hurts," A'isha murmured, her eyes fixed on the scenery. "Especially after being cooped up in that little box you have the nerve to call a room." She sighed coolly, her next words dismissing any bitterness the previous had held. "The view's thought-provoking too."

"I enjoy coming out here myself," he stated, like she even gave a toss; that is, unless he enjoyed coming out here to toss his diced-up victims to a bunch of ravenous sharks. Preferably not.

A'isha was silent, her eyes focused on the expanse of water before them. Her mind started to wander.

"What are you thinking about?" Marik finally asked.

She scoffed, exhaling with slight frustration. "Can't you just find out with that twig of yours?"

Marik frowned. "It  _would_ _be more efficient_." His frown soon turned upside down, a smirk shaping his lips. The change of expression was slow and deliberate, only making it seem all the more taunting. "But why waste my energy acquiring information through that method when there are far simpler options available to me?"

A'isha glanced at him, her lips fixed into a firm line. The warm breeze gently wisped the sandy blond hair from his face as he examined her features. She had a feeling he was searching for an emotion besides scorn, trying to read her with his eyes alone. It was obvious that he didn't need the Millennium Rod to determine what someone was thinking and feeling. It seemed like an ability that he'd possessed for a fair portion of his life, a natural one enhanced by his use of his magic twig. Actually understanding his victim's thoughts and feelings, on the other hand… Well, she doubted he had even a speck of empathy somewhere in that crazy head of his.

Finally, A'isha huffed, an abundance of emotion flooding through her: disbelief, fear, unease, helplessness—the list was never-ending, to the point that she could barely pin one emotion down before another took its place. As if those very feelings were weighing her down, she braced herself on the railing. She found her voice soon after.

"I was just thinking about how you hear of people being kidnapped on the news and stuff." Despite how feeble she felt, her tone remained firm. "You just never think you'll be the one in that situation." A bitter laugh left her lips. "And you wouldn't think you'd find yourself stuck on a boat heading to who knows where, and agreeing to pose as your kidnapper's fiancée." She used the word 'agreeing' very loosely. "And you'd picture your kidnapper as a hairy, creepy, old perv. Not some dude in his twenties with a magic stick."  _Though probably even more of a creepy perv,_ her brain cruelly reminded her, thinking back to how he'd forced her to claim she was cheating on Dani with him, and had implied that he would rape Amara. The disgusting nutcase.

"I don't think it's fair that you know my age," he lied, biting back a smirk of his own over her incorrect assumption, "and yet I don't know yours." At least the latter of his words were true.

A'isha gave Marik a pointed glance, before finally determining that him knowing her age could hardly prove to be a threat. "Sixteen," she stated. "So you're twenty?"

"Twenty two," he claimed, an amused glint in his eyes. A moment later, that amusement had been replaced by a false smile that could easily deceive an unwary onlooker as genuine. A'isha didn't fit into the 'unwary' category per se. She was just too busy staring out at the horizon, more preoccupied with her reunion with fresh air to pay the expression any mind.

"Good to know," A'isha said, hands sliding from the railing to fold across her chest. It was a little on the chilly side out there thanks to the breeze; a bad day to choose denim shorts for once, and not just because they revealed more skin to the elements. "Mar won't fawn over you so much when she knows you're seven years older than her and I'd like to rule out at least one constant reminder that I've been kidnapped by a psychotic nutcase hiding behind a magic stick." She bit back a laugh at the euphemism, only to wonder how she could possibly feel any joy given her current predicament. Maybe Marik was already driving her crazy—and certainly not the good kind.

A'isha pursed her lips. Her terror rested not in the fact that she'd been kidnapped, not in the fact that her captor had a posse with less than desirable ethics, not even in the fact that said captor had an ego larger than the Sahara Desert and flaunted it at every given opportunity. The true root of her terror was that golden rod with the unnerving eye. Grabbing hold of minds and having the ability to discard them when their usefulness was spent – or for other, more despicable reasons – it was a power that she had trouble envisioning anyone wanting to exhibit. She absently wondered what it felt like, more so on the receiving end than that of a possessor.

"Shall we proceed?" Marik asked, seeming to be watching her as an afterthought. She nodded and took two steps back, allowing her hands to fall to her sides. She regretted uncrossing her arms the second Marik grabbed her right hand and – cringing all the while – she immediately yanked it away in disgust and plunged it into the front pocket of her shorts. Cocking his head, Marik wordlessly led her through the shiny metal door and once more into the dark corridors.

"Why a boat?"

"Tracking is more difficult than sole use of cars or a comparable sized jet," Marik answered stiffly, walking forward. He took the first doorway on the right. A'isha peeked in and saw the room had red carpet, a rounded leather sofa with end tables on either side and a coffee table littered with newspapers and magazines. "This is one of the many lounges aboard this vessel, also one of the less frequented. Periodicals are acquired at every stop the vessel makes." Marik gestured to the small blackish screen on the far wall with his right hand. "There is also a television for use."

"I don't suppose any of those periodicals will suit my taste in magazines?" The unpleasant expression on her face said it all.

Marik frowned. "If my assumption is correct and you are suggesting that I would provide those fools with illicit materials, you are very mistaken."

A'isha rolled her eyes. "Now that I think about it, that situation you had to 'save me' from", she framed 'save me' with air quotes, "could have been avoided if you did provide your goons with that…disgusting stuff."

"You came running to me." Marik flashed an unsettling smirk.

"I did  _not_ come running to you. I was running and you got in my way."

Marik said nothing for a moment, pressing his right boot into the carpet as if trying to rub powdered sugar off a black garment; perhaps his way of refraining from saying a particularly snarky remark. Then, "Shall we continue to the next room?" A'isha sidestepped out of the lounge without complaint. Marik once again traversed the three turns to their next destination with an uneasy amount of familiarity.

She almost missed the last corner and had to take three steps back to continue following her guide. He had waited for her. "There's always one corner," he murmured, more to himself, she assumed; he wasn't facing her. He turned soundlessly on his heel. "You've been rather silent, Dear A'isha. Am I to take it that you're not enjoying the tour?"

What the heck did he expect? For her to make casual chit chat with the creep that had taken both herself and her cousin against their will? It took everything in her not to snap as much.

"No. It's… very informative. I'm just trying to remember everything."

Marik said nothing a he opened and held a nearby door for her. The room was tiled in grey linoleum and A'isha couldn't tell if that was its original colour or if it was a white-tiled floor that had been smudged with layers of dirt and grit. The walls were a manila colour and had a set of two shelf platforms above a counter. To the right, there were two washer and dryer sets, the washers opposite the entryway.

"A laundry room would be better used if I actually  _had_  other clothes. Remember I didn't exactly anticipate being kidnapped."

"You will have to wash the ones you're wearing eventually," countered Marik, who was trying to hide a smirk as the girl turned tomato red.

"An-And what would I wear in the meantime?"

"You tell me…" Marik's now uncontainable grin was overflowing with amusement.

"Says the guy who wore a dress yesterday," she muttered.

"Surely you can differentiate a robe from a dress?"

"Well with all the jewellery you wear, you might as well be in a dress."

"The wearing of jewellery is an age-old tradition in this area of the world and was never a sole adornment for females."

"Yeah, the key word being 'old.' Don't you know it's a tradition that became outdated  _years_  ago?" She bit back a humoured snort. "It makes you look gay."

"My wearing of jewellery makes me look happy? That doesn't make any sense." His face soured as she started to laugh, not at the sound but the idea that he was the object of the joke.

"That may have been what it meant about thirty years ago, but it doesn't mean that anymore." A'isha was still laughing softly.

"And just what meaning does the word have in this day and age?"

"You're not into women," A'isha answered, her speech quickening slightly with her next sentence, in a strange combo of fear and amusement. "That would explain why you don't have any female minions. Those guys are secretly your man-harem."

A'isha was shocked to say the least, when Marik laughed passively.

"That wasn't supposed to be funny." She noted the disappointment ridden through her tone and quickly remedied it with her next words. "Not for you anyway."

"You amuse me."

"Well you didn't deny it," she pointed out.

"I have no need nor desire to prove my sexuality to you." His lips suddenly curved into a suggestive smirk. "Unless there's a hidden agenda for why my sexual orientation has snuck into the forefront of this conversation."

A'isha threw her hands in the air dramatically, her impending words heavy with sarcasm. "You got me! I was hoping to find out if any efforts at seducing you would benefit me in my quest to attain freedom! 'Cause I'm just  _that_  desperate to be free from your evil clutches!"

Marik's lips snaked into a wide, arrogant smirk as he closed the distance between them. Her uneasiness escalated as he leaned in so close his lips brushed over her ear. "Amuse me," he whispered far too softly.

She quickly stumbled a few steps back, ungracefully colliding with the washer. Anger and embarrassment laced into one as she heard his cocky laugh.

"What a temptress," he mocked, the laughter in his eyes making her blood boil. "My garments are already strewn across the floor, my feeble mind manipulated by the unyielding desire to witness your skills in seduction."

A'isha quickly straightened. "Says the guy who's probably never even had a girlfriend," she shot back with a bitter shake of her fist and a glare to match.

Marik was suddenly serious, although the laughter remained in his eyes. "I could woo you right now."

She quirked a brow, questioning his seriousness for a brief moment; then she suddenly heaved over with laughter, her sides quickly beginning to ache. "You couldn't—" She paused for air. "You couldn't woo your way into a brothel!" She bit back a laugh as she forced out, "You're so girly they'd mistake you for an employee!"

Marik's eyes narrowed. "I wooed your cousin, didn't I?"

A'isha rolled her eyes. "All it takes to woo Amara is for a hot guy to blink at her."

He quirked a brow. "A  _hot_ guy?"

She immediately regretted the poorly constructed phrase. "I-I meant to  _her_."

"You don't find me attractive?"

"You've kidnapped me!"

"What if the circumstances under which we'd met had been different?" Marik paused in thought. "What if we'd met at, say, the museum?"

An unimpressed glare was now written across her face. "Hmm, okay then. How would you like it if  _I_ asked  _you_ if you find me attractive? Because I honestly wouldn't expe—" Her words were cut short by a gentle finger upon her lips.

"I think you're very attractive," Marik murmured softly, his expression almost unreadable. All she could read from it was that he was serious. That did nothing to ease her nerves, considering that she knew nothing of his morals; only that he'd displayed close to none since they'd met, as expected from an infamous leader of a criminal organisation.

A'isha gripped Marik's wrist tightly and almost flung his hand back in his face. "Wh-What?" she stuttered, once her lips were free.

Marik ignored the hostility in which she'd removed his finger from her lips. Instead, he flashed her a suggestive half-smirk. It grew a little upon seeing the clear unease on her face. "What's not to like?" He took a step towards her, his eyes trailing down her body as he closed the little distance between them; their lavender hue locked with hers once he stood directly before her. "You have an impressive frame: slender, yet well-toned. You obviously do at least one form of physical sport." He paused thoughtfully. "Because of that toned stature, I would assume you are a gymnast, or a dancer who deals with choreographies that demand a gymnast's upper and core body strength."

"Why not a swimmer?"

Marik raised his right hand to lightly brush through her hair. He was surprised that A'isha's only response was to flinch for a brief moment. "Your hair," he murmured gently. "It's too soft to have been exposed to a considerable amount chlorine in a pool, or salt from the sea." His hand fell to his side.

A'isha cleared her throat rather awkwardly, in slight disbelief that he'd determined all that from her physique alone. "I'm… head of the dance squad." She watched as he pursed his lips like he'd just received a puzzle piece that didn't quite seem to fit yet.

"I'm rather surprised that someone would put you in any leadership position." He took two steps away.

"I could say the same about you," A'isha murmured joylessly. Marik held back a laugh as he led her back into the hallway.

They walked on for a few moments more before Marik broke the monotony. "Do you enjoy heading the dance squad?"

"Well, I hype up the team, have a lot of sway over the choreography and get to choose what songs we use."

Marik noticed a slight grimace had inched onto her face near the end of her answer. "I take it you didn't care for your predecessor's taste?"

"How would you like dancing to nothing but rap and doing almost sexual routines to match?" A'isha smiled for once, when Marik's face soured. "I didn't think so."

They walked for ten minutes more with nothing more than sighs and the steady cadence of their steps between them. They then stopped before a door in a hallway that was sectioned away from the others. A'isha watched Marik loosen considerably, like he was finally a little bit relaxed. He heaved a loose sigh as he retrieved a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. She took five cautious steps inside, only to freeze when her captor stepped inside and locked the door behind them both. "It's merely habit."

"That does nothing to make me feel safer."

At that, Marik was silent.

A'isha spared a glance around the room. It was furnished with a bookcase to the right of the door, its two middle shelves neatly lined with books, while the bottom shelf had four orderly stacks of magazines. Upon closer inspection, the right two stacks were technology-related and the left two stacks dealt with motorcycles. She glanced up to the top shelf, where a record player was the central occupant with records on either side.

"How peculiar. You seem to be all about technology and yet you have quite the archaic method when it comes to music appreciation."

"Classical orchestra arrangements sound better on vinyl," Marik stated and gestured with his left hand. "Besides, if you would turn your attention to the opposite end of the room you will notice a compact disk player for the other genres."

A'isha snickered, stepping toward the closet. "And I suppose that next you'll tell me that all your taste is in your mouth."

"Is that what you are trying to force with your moving toward my closet?" Marik quickly sidled over, placing himself squarely in front of its entrance. "You aren't terribly subtle."

"You're obviously defensive about something."

"It  _is_ my room. I would think that there are certain courtesies and an understanding of privacy that are in play here."

"Privacy?" That word was all that A'isha got out before she burst out laughing.

"Is there something funny?"

"Cameras in every room and you have a nerve to insist for privacy?"

"I suppose there is a minor amount of irony in that assertion; however, it is inaccurate." An odd, unsettling and almost genuine smile slid across his lips. Facetious glee oozed from his tone as he continued. "Not every room has a camera." He saw A'isha attempt to form words and noted she did not give them voice. His smile shifted into an eerie, oddly safer and familiar smirk. "The room you're in just happens to possess one." He stepped further into his room, leaving A'isha near the closet. "You still think that my primary aim is to do you harm; however, you're merely a liability."

"A liability is leaving keys in easy access," she pointed out.

Marik's whole demeanour seemed to shift at that. "I… I forgot to lock the door…" His voice was a whisper, but with the bare walls around them, A'isha heard well enough. She watched as he balled his fists and collapsed onto the king bed with its head pressed against a nearby wall. She could have sworn she'd heard an added, "keys wouldn't have been necessary anyway."

A'isha leaned back against the wall to the right of the closet entrance, wondering if he'd forgotten that she was there. It wasn't a complete admittance of a misstep, but it was probably as close as he'd come to one. She couldn't really blame him. No one liked making mistakes, let alone admitting to them. The fact that he was sort of doing just that was hard enough for her to grasp.

Marik sighed loosely. "I'm sorry."

Unseen to him, her brows rose. "You're actually apologising?" This was a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit—yet strangely enough, it did. She'd seen it when he'd loosened upon reaching his bedroom. She had seen it in his earlier wooing attempt. A'isha saw sincerity.

There was a moment of suffocating silence. "Do you think me incapable of admitting a misstep?" Marik eventually asked. "It  _is_ difficult to do, but not impossible."

"It wasn't your intention to leave the door unlocked." Why was she even coming up with an excuse for the jerk?

"I didn't intend on having keys in an easily accessible location either. Because of that, there was nearly a very unpleasant incident. Perhaps I need to institute a night watch."

"A night watch? No. You need to start screening the members of your man-harem." All civility was gone as Ish stood bolt upright. "You're the one who hires those guys!"

Marik smoothly rose from the bed. "You're still in my care. Those fools wouldn't dare lay a hand on you nor your cousin."

"Says the guy who implied he'd do just that to my cousin—or let her drown and become fish food!" A'isha crossed her arms, sparing a pointedly quick glance over her right shoulder. Why was he even acting like he cared? What the heck was wrong with hi- Okay. Stupid question.

Marik was silent, pacing towards her slowly. He stopped to absently trace a finger across a small ornament on a shelf pressed against the wall to her left. It was a small statue, standing strong with the black body of a man, the menacing head of a jackal, and a golden staff clutched in its left hand while an ankh was clutched in its right. She recognised it as the Egyptian God of Death, Anubis. His eyes followed his forefinger as he pulled it away to rub his thumb and middle finger against it, swiping away some dust in the process.

A'isha cleared her throat rather awkwardly. "If you intend on keeping us captive, we need a shopping spree." She watched his expression morph from one of absolute utter refusal to mild consideration.

Marik looked up from his hand to meet her gaze. "Define shopping spree." His words were pointed and exhibited no eagerness at the idea.

"Milking every last cent outta your pocket," A'isha gushed with a sweet smile. The male before her cocked a brow, still not sold on the idea. With a sigh, she stepped around him, leaving the blond standing between her and the closet. "Be thankful you aren't dealing with my cousin. She'd make it three shopping sprees."

"When?"

"As soon as possible?"

He closed the gap between them, only to run his fingers through strands of her hair somewhat wistfully. Somehow A'isha covertly flinched, despite how passionately she wanted to slap him—any distaste could negate the deal entirely.

"Return to your quarters and wait for me there. I'll take you and your cousin myself." His voice gained a darker edge that had been absent since the situation on deck the day prior. "I hold your cousin's fragile mind in my hands. If you even think to try anything, little Amara will be broken beyond repair."


	10. Chapter 9: Shopping Shenanigans

**Chapter Nine: Shopping Shenanigans**

A'isha reached her "accommodation" a lot quicker than she'd expected, thanks to the directions that Marik had supplied her with as she'd left his room. Someone had closed their bedroom door – if she could really call it that – since her unforeseen leave around an hour earlier. She twisted the doorknob, mildly surprised to find it unlocked. Marik likely thought of her as much more of a threat than Amara.

Upon entering the room, A'isha immediately heard the thump of clumsy feet upon the hard floor. Amara had leaped from the bed upon realising her cousin had returned. Mar's hair was wrapped in a damp, white towel, her complexion strangely pale, void of her usual full face of makeup.

"Where have you been?" Amara cried, her round, hazel eyes reminding A'isha of a lost, panicked pup. She was surprised to hear a hint of worry in her words. "I came back in the room after my shower and you were gone!"

A'isha hesitated, knowing the answer wouldn't do Amara's anxiousness any favours. "I've been with Marik." She cleared her throat rather awkwardly, realising the implications surrounding that sentence—at least in her disturbed cousin's head.

"You've been with—Wha-What?" Mar stuttered. "Why?"

A'isha sighed. "Long story short, one of Marik's goons came in here with… less than pleasant intentions." She eyed the floor for a moment, unease entering her mind over what Marik's lackeys were capable of. A moment later, her eyes met Amara's once more. "I left the room. The creep followed. I ran into Marik. And Marik… killed him for his insubordination." She didn't miss Amara's eyes flicker with alarm. "And now I've agreed to a… proposition that he's made."

Amara's fear vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced by a more familiar and oddly comforting expression of confusion. "Okay," she drawled, the gears turning in her head. "So Marik  _killed_ a guy… and then he  _proposed_ … and you said  _yes_?"

A'isha's palm met her forehead. "No!" she cried, frustrated. "He proposed that I  _pretend to be_ his fiancée for some business dinner at the end of the week and in return we'll get more freedom on this tin-can!" She paused, hesitant to say her next words. "And he's agreed to take us shopping for things we'll need long-term."

Amara straightened. "You mean a… a shopping spree?"

"I was avoiding the use of that term for the sake of my sanity," A'isha muttered, half hoping her cousin would faint from excitement and give her some much-needed peace and quiet, "but yes, a shopping spree."

Amara's face lit up as she squealed. "OH MY GOD  _YES_!" she screeched, launching her arms into the air as she began to dance around the room. A'isha instantly wished she'd left that little detail for Marik to tell upon his arrival.

Amara hushed then, a cheeky grin now playing on her lips. "Oh, and congrats on the engagement, Ish," she teased, complete with a childish poke of her tongue.

Unimpressed, A'isha folded her arms, a slight pouting making her bottom lip quiver. "That isn't even  _remotely_ funny."

"I agree with your cousin," an amused voice spoke up, startling them both. Their attention turned to a smirking Marik, whose footsteps echoed softly as he slowly entered the room through the now-opened door. "An engagement between two individuals, madly in love despite…  _obvious_ differences, is nothing to joke about."

A'isha didn't know when a glare had snuck onto her features, but she welcomed it regardless. "I wouldn't call it 'madly in love' as a reference to the cliché phrase," she stated with narrowed eyes. "It would be used more in the literal sense… as in 'mad that I have to pretend to  _be_ in love with you'."

Amara began to raise her hand.

"I already tried to offer you up as first choice," A'isha muttered, answering her cousin's query before it had even left her lips. Amara's hand fell to her side instantly, a sheepish grin forming on her youthful face.

"I wish you had Amara's enthusiasm," Marik stirred. "It would make this situation far simpler."

A'isha flashed a sweet smile. "But it wouldn't be  _nearly_  as entertaining," she gushed, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

Marik's smirk grew. "You learn quickly."

"Okay," Amara seized their attention. "Is this playful banter or are you guys genuinely arguing?" She itched her head, clearly confused. "Because I really can't tell."

Amara was suddenly the victim of A'isha's stern scowl. "Y'know, a moment ago I would've thought that the most likely candidate in this room to hurt you was Marik," she growled, "but now I'm not so sure."

Marik laughed at A'isha's expense. "Perhaps this shopping spree will be more entertaining than I had first anticipated."

A'isha balled her fists, her knuckles quickly beginning to whiten.  _I need to refrain from the bitter comments on this shopping trip_ , she thought,  _because_   _I really don't wanna be the source of his amusement any more than I already am._ She already knew her pride and hot-headedness would fail her.

A'isha managed to swallow her pride for the time being, albeit painfully. "Should we be going then?" she asked tautly, gathering up whatever composure she could.

Marik's smirk remained, and she assumed the jerk knew the reason for her sudden change of approach. "Right this way."

* * *

An hour had past—and in that time, they had re-docked at the coastal town of Marina. A'isha recognised the name in an instant. The place was situated at least sixty miles from Alexandria and was popular with tourists wanting a little rest and relaxation—quite typical, she thought, considering she wouldn't be savouring either of those things any time soon.

Aside from Amara voicing her anticipation from time-to-time, the drive downtown had been a silent one. A'isha had been absorbed in her thoughts, staring blankly out the passenger window the whole time as the town blurred by.

Only when Marik pulled into a parking space near a makeup store did Amara say something that interested A'isha. "Oh my gosh! We  _definitely_  need makeup! Right, Ish?"

A'isha flashed a sly smirk as she glanced over her shoulder at Amara, who was right on the edge of the centre seat in the back of the vehicle. "I dunno, Mar," she drawled slyly, her eyes then falling on Marik, sitting in the driver's seat. "I'm sure Marik has plenty we can use."

"I'll decide where we do and don't go," Marik stated, sadly unfazed by A'isha's comment. He flashed an unnerving smile. "Let's get lingerie out of the way before anything else."

"Typical male," A'isha muttered as she left the warmth of the car, where the cool, coastal breeze breathed a soft sigh across her skin.

A'isha made sure to stick a few steps behind Marik, instead stepping in sync with Amara, as they approached the entrance, the doors sliding aside to beckon them into the moderately-sized mall. It had been renovated recently, the floors made of marble and the walls plastered and painted beige. Potted plants were dotted across the main walkway, adding a hint of green to the sea of people that crowded the mall, leading their lives freely, unaware that hers was being led by a deranged egomaniac with a mind-reading stick.

Once they found the lingerie store, it didn't take long for Amara to scoop up a whole lot of clothing articles for the changing room. In the meantime, A'isha had found a rack stacked with bras near the changing room that Mar currently occupied. The sound of clothing hangers scraping and the struggled sighs and groans of Amara filled the air as she changed, forever a loud-mouthed drama queen. A disappointed moan from the girl soon had A'isha giving thought to an eye roll.

"Hey, Ish!" she heard Amara shout out.

"What, Mar?" A hint of exasperation was present in A'isha's voice.

"Come and see if my boobs look too small in this."

"What for? The boys?" A'isha snorted. "Mar, it's not really gonna matter once the bra comes off anyway, so you'd might as well not false advertise." When Amara huffed in irritation, A'isha couldn't resist a satisfied snicker.

Soft, calculated, and increasingly familiar footsteps drew Ish's attention to her left. Marik had approached her, chuckling to himself. She assumed the source of his amusement was the matter-of-fact comment she'd just delivered to Amara. Cautiously, she watched him take a black, lacy bra around her size off of the rack. His smirk only grew as he held it out in front of her chest.

"I think this one would complement your skin tone," Marik taunted. His laughing eyes searched her face for any change of expression. They didn't have to look too hard, considering the sour scowl she now wore.

A'isha quickly plucked a purple bra off of the same rack and pressed it against his chest. "I think this one would make your eyes stand out." She smiled sweetly, shoving it against his chest and letting go, forcing him to catch it out of instinct. She turned on her heel and marched to the next rack along.

A'isha heard a scraping sound as he hung both bras back in their respective places, followed by the sound of his footsteps close behind her. She spun on her heel to face him directly. "Would you stop following me?" she quietly hissed, not wanting to cause a scene in public.

"Why, I simply wish to help my  _darling_ fiancée choose her lingerie wisely."

"Oh please," she scoffed. "It's not like you're  _actually_ gonna see it!"

She noticed Marik look over her shoulder, then at her once more. He raised a brow, clearly amused by something. Whatever that something may be, A'isha suspected she'd soon find out. "That's not what you thought earlier today when you said you were considering wooing me."

A'isha's blood boiled instantly. He knew she'd been being sarcastic about giving thought to wooing him! She opened her mouth, about to squawk as much, when a cheery voice cut in line.

"Hello! Would you two like some help with anything?"

She looked left to find a young woman with dark skin and darker hair absolutely beaming at them, her nametag reading 'Allana' It was then that she realised what Marik had been looking over her shoulder at: this woman approaching them.  _The jerk thinks he's SO smart, timing that wooing comment just right, so I wouldn't get the chance to correct him!_

"I'm convincing my fiancée to try on a black bra that I think would complement her skin tone just perfectly," Marik supplied, smiling so warmly Ish might've just thought it was genuine had she not already seen his true colours.

"Oh really?" Allana said. "Which bra is it?"

Marik returned to the rack A'isha had previously been perusing. "This one here," he informed her, removing the bra in question from the rack.

Allana smiled at A'isha. "I think your fiancé has a point, Miss. It would look great against your skin tone!"

A'isha returned Allana's smile with a small one of her own, yet in her mind all she could see in that moment were her two hands around Marik's gold-clad neck. "Okay then." She wrung her fists at her side. "I'll, uhh, give it a shot."

"Great! What size are you?"

"Erm." She hesitated, glancing at her captor and hoping she wasn't flushing tomato red. "I'm—"

"Twelve D," Marik interrupted.

A'isha deadpanned in total disbelief. How could he possibly know  _that_? Had he read  _her_ mind? She went pale at the prospect of him reading it without her knowledge, knowing Amara was living-proof that it was possible. Her poor cousin had no idea that her mind had been at the mercy of a madman on several occasions, Amara's every action manipulated by Marik like some mindless puppet on strings, obeying its master's every whim. She swallowed hard. If she couldn't tell if he'd been reading her mind or not, who knows what he could've learned without her even being aware of it!

"Wow!" Allana expressed, handing A'isha her size. "He's really onto it!"

"Y-Yeah," she stuttered, avoiding Marik's gaze. She didn't need to see his stupid face to know it was the very definition of smug in that moment. Instead, she made haste for the nearest changing room.

A minute later, just as A'isha was adjusting the straps into place, she heard Allana speak up. "How's it going?"

"It's on," A'isha exclaimed, examining her reflection in the mirror. She bitterly admitted to herself that she liked it: the colour really did look good against her skin and the lace added sex appeal. That realisation only fuelled her frustration toward her captor. She sighed, attempting to dismiss her bitter feelings. Looks aside, it was comfortable and seemed to support her well enough, but she preferred a professional opinion on these things.

"Could I please have your thoughts on whether or not I'm getting enough support?"

"Of course! Can I please come in?" Allana asked.

"Sure."

The curtain slid aside, only for the heat of embarrassment to flood through her as she saw Marik standing just behind Allana. She thanked her dark complexion in that moment—it hid the blush fairly well. Not that Marik needed to see it to know of her humiliation.

Allana approached her and silently tugged and pulled at various parts of the bra. A'isha barely felt it, her attention centred on Marik and his unnerving smirk as his eyes trailed from her exposed waist, up to her breasts, before finally locking with her blue eyes.  _That fricking pervert!_ Ish thought, sure that she'd never wanted to punch someone more in her life than she did right now. She glanced at herself in the mirror, ending Marik's unannounced staring contest, and realised she was glaring; she quickly remedied that.

After tightening the straps, Allana said, "It fits great!"

"Yes, I agree," Marik chipped in with a charming smile. "It really supports your chest well and still provides you with an adequate amount of comfort."

A'isha smiled sweetly at Marik. "Y'know, Honey, sometimes I worry that you're actually gay and I'm just a cover up."

Marik's smirk remained. If he was at all fazed by her words, he didn't show it—and unfortunately, she suspected that he wasn't.

Meanwhile, Allana laughed, thinking A'isha was cracking a harmless joke. "Did you want to try on the matching underwear?"

Marik opened his mouth, but that time A'isha beat him to form words. "I'll just take a gander on the underwear size!" she insisted with a sheepish laugh.

Allana nodded. "All right. Just ask if you need anything then."

"Sure thing," A'isha stated with a smile. "Thanks!"

With that, Allana left in search of another customer to help. A'isha, on the other hand, flashed a venomous glare in Marik's direction before swishing the changing room curtain shut. She re-dressed quickly, a question hounding her brain that demanded an answer.

Moments later she stormed out of the changing room and scanned the area for Marik, easily spotting him lounging on a nearby sofa. She marched right up to him, hands balled at her side, the bra scrunched up in her right fist. "How the hell did you know my bra size?!" she snapped.

Marik laughed. "You don't know?" He folded his arms across his chest, a smug air about him. "Little Amara steals your bras all the time in an effort to make her bust appear bigger."

"Wha—?" A'isha blinked. "That…  _That cow_!"

Marik glanced behind her, his smirk faltering slightly at whatever he saw. She glanced over her shoulder to see Amara juggling a heap of undergarments. The roles seemed to be in reverse as she smirked, while he grimaced.

"You've got to be joking," he almost barked.

Amara flashed a guilty grin while A'isha laughed at his expense—literally!

"Didn't I say Mar would make it three shopping sprees?" A'isha became the victim of Marik's narrowed gaze. "Well, if it makes you feel any better," she stirred, "I'll just get three bras like this and one week's worth of all, this bra that  _you_ chose is only", she glanced at the tag, smiling sweetly, "thirty five pounds."

"Why, you're too kind."

"Someone here has to be," A'isha gushed, before a thought came to mind. Clearing her throat, she leaned closer to Marik than she usually would've liked. "You  _are_ paying for this, right?" she whispered, after giving the store a once over to ensure no shoppers were in earshot.

Marik looked back at her, his eyes narrowing in mild annoyance.

"What?" she defended. "The idiot that slipped your name to me didn't exactly ask  _nicely_  for that deck of cards!" Her mood soured furthermore at the reminder of the night she'd been mugged by Marik's man harem, and at the thought of the moron responsible for getting her into this mess, setting aside the fact that Dani had been the one to leave the deck in her care in the first place. She could hardly blame him. Her uncle was a policeman, so placing the deck in her care had been a logical decision and Dani had only been doing what he deemed right. She'd always admired him for his morality.

Marik's expression was stern, his lips set in a firm line. "While my means of obtaining certain items may constitute as stealing," he sharply said, "I do, in fact, intend on paying for this little excursion of ours."

A'isha simpered once more. "Then you won't mind if I glance over the machine as you pay, right? You know, just to make sure."

"Will you two stop whispering?" The pair glanced over at Amara to find her scowling. Typical, Amara was not one who enjoyed being on the outside of anything. "Believe it or not, it's  _really_ annoying!"

A'isha rolled her eyes. "Oh, I believe it, Mar," she muttered. "After all, it's no secret that you get annoyed whenever you're  _not_ the centre of attention!"

"Oh, that's  _so_ not tr—"

"As much as I'd love to see where this pathetic quarrel leads," Marik coolly interfered, his eyes narrowed on Amara, "I believe that now is neither the time nor the place for it." He smirked as his eyes then fell on A'isha. "And in regards to your request to watch me complete the transaction for your undergarments", he coolly withdrew a leather wallet from the right side-pocket of his black cargo pants, "by all means, be my guest."

A'isha held up her forefinger, the rest of her digits curled into her palm. "I have one more request." The opportunity was too good to pass up, and it was the least that Sir Jerk-A-Lot deserved after kidnapping two teenage girls.

Marik studied her warily. "And what is this so-called request?"

"Amara and I… We're girls."

"I would not describe that as a request, but I commend you on that sudden comprehension, as belated as it is."

A'isha glowered at him. " _Because_ we're girls, we will eventually need certain products from the supermarket." Her smirk returned with her next words. " _Hygiene_ products."

Marik was silent.

"As in pads and tamp—"

"I know what hygiene products are!" Marik growled, and then sighed as his signature smirk crossed his countenance. "As for those requirements, if you were hoping to humiliate me, Dear A'isha, then you should know by now that I am always one step ahead of you."

"How?" A'isha caught sight of a flash from the corner of her eye and she was quickly reminded of Marik's most powerful asset as she perceived the golden rod that was latched to his belt.

"Ish…" she heard Amara whisper faintly, though the increasingly familiar grate of another voice was interlaced with the girl's.

A'isha stiffened at the sight of her cousin's sudden absence, though she silently admitted that so far, it was the most effective method she had come across to shut Amara up.

"How quickly you forget, my Millennium Rod grants me access to your cousin's feeble excuse for a brain," Marik murmured darkly as he took a single step towards her, closing the little distance between them. She felt his breath fan across her face and refused to admit it was the reason her heart was suddenly pounding against her chest, as a bird bashed against its metal prison in a futile attempt to obtain freedom. She refused to believe he had any effect on her aside from intimidation, which wormed its way into her head, battling violently against pride that refused to yield. "Amara shall remain with me while you retrieve the products that you require." His smirk widened. "And it would be unwise to attempt an escape without her. After all", he tapped the wallet he held in his right hand against the left wing of the rod still latched to his belt, "you won't get very far."

* * *

After paying for their undergarments, with Marik paying for the items in order to vex A'isha, he then led them to the sole supermarket in the mall. A'isha never would've thought she'd be peeved to be alone given recent circumstances, but somehow the damn jerk had proved her wrong. She found the items quickly and purchased them by means of the pay-wave feature on Marik's card, a scowl set onto her face the whole time.

Plastic bag in hand, her features twisted as though she'd swallowed a hundred lemons, A'isha approached the blond pain in the butt and her somewhat more tolerable her cousin, who were leaning against a wall belonging to a pharmacy. A hefty, bulging paper bag rested at Amara's feet, their lingerie stuffed within it. Marik seemed lost in thought, whilst her cousin was absently examining her well-manicured nails. A'isha briefly wondered why Marik was so readily allowing himself to be absorbed in thought. Did he really believe in his perception of her so strongly that he was certain she wouldn't abandon her cousin at such an opportune moment?

A'isha reconsidered that thought for a moment upon realising that he'd be correct. Sourly, she reminded herself that Marik seemed to possess a natural ability to read people, only enhanced by the Millennium Rod.

"Where to next?" A'isha stated, snapping them both out of their reveries. "We need clothes, shoes and – since Amara will whine if we don't get it – makeup."

Marik raised a brow. A familiar smirk snaked across his lips, only to warp A'isha's features into a grimace. His sickening smirk had gotten old before he'd even left her house yesterday.

"Then by all means," he said, "select our next destination with those details in mind."

"You're the one who said you were calling the shots!" A'isha shrieked.

"I have no qualms over where we go next."

"Then can we get clothes next?" Amara chipped in. "I wanna make sure my makeup and shoes match my clothes to an acceptable standard."

After another eye roll at her typical cousin, A'isha looked at Marik, as if to silently ask for his opinion. He raised his brow once more, as though saying 'Didn't I just say I didn't care where we go next?'

"Fine then," A'isha growled, unable to understand how Amara could care so much about looking good given their current predicament. It's not like the girl had anyone to impress. At least A'isha hoped not, considering their only company until who knew when would be Marik and his Rare Hunters, neither of which were at all appealing in her eyes. "Clothes it is."


	11. Chapter 10: Shopping Shenanigans Pt II

**Chapter Ten: Shopping Shenanigans Pt II**

A'isha slid Marik's card into her left pocket, offering a habitual thanks to the young guy behind the counter, and even managing a small smile despite her ultra-crazy life right now. She scooped up the bulging paper bag by its weaved straps, her new and hopefully  _very_  temporary wardrobe crammed within.

The last thing A'isha wanted was to draw attention to herself around Marik's seedy Rare Hunters, so most of it was baggy, unflattering and consequentially comfortable: over-sized men's shirts, loose-fitting jumpers, simple sweatpants and the like. In case she left the boat before her captor's stupid dinner, Ish had tossed a few tank tops into her basket, along with a pair of red denim jeans, turquoise three-quarters and plum purple shorts. With a butt ton of luck, the next time she left the boat would be when the authorities found her and Amara, and threw Marik and his creepy cult behind bars.

A'isha pulled at the loose fabric of her shirt, the orange a bit dingy and dull after two days of wear and sweat. She sighed, somewhat regretful that she hadn't chosen any new orange for her wardrobe. She had eyed up an orange T-shirt, mulling over whether or not to grab it for a good ten minutes. In the end, she'd decided it was far too bright for the rest of her wardrobe, which mostly consisted of white, grey, black and dark blue. As she glanced at the drab shirts stuffed into her shopping bag, A'isha grimaced a little, wishing she'd bought the pretty garment. Well, at least she had clean clothes.

Since the age of five, A'isha had loved bright bottoms paired with white, black or striped shirts and tank tops. She'd always been drawn to bright colours. It had been her style from the second she'd started to choose her own clothes. Maybe the prissy, frou-frou pink clothes Elissa had always dressed her in were to blame. She'd always despised the outfits her aunt had clad her in.

From the inception of her friendship with Julie, at the tender age of four, A'isha had always had a wardrobe at the girl's house, courtesy of Mrs Hughes. The loving woman had always kept a spare change of clothes in the car too, in Ish's style. The Hughes household was and always would be A'isha's home away from home. Heck, it was more of a home than her own place had ever been.

With a grimace, A'isha dismissed that thought, instead focusing on finding her shopping companions. She scanned the store for any arrogant jerk-wads or total spazzes. Marik was nowhere to be found, but Amara was hard to miss, juggling a high pile of clothes as she struggled to browse through a clothing rack of skimpy dresses.

A'isha rolled her eyes at Amara's predictability as she approached her, sparing a glance at the trail of clothes her cousin had left in her wake as she'd trudged about the store, each article likely having fallen from atop the stack of clothes she was juggling. With a heavy sigh, Ish plucked a few garments up off the floor and dumped them atop Amara's ever-growing pile of outfits.

" _Seriously_ _,_  Mar?"

"What?" the girl shrieked.

"Who are you trying to impress?" A'isha cried. "Why can't you set aside your vanity and be practical for a change?"

Amara glowered. "Hmm. I dunno, Ish. Why don't you stop being bossy and mind your own business for a change?"

"I'm not being bossy!" A'isha exclaimed with a feverish wave of her hands. "I'm just pointing out that you don't  _need_  all of this stuff and we shouldn't have to wait a damn century for you to choose your wardrobe!"

"You should be  _happy_!"

A'isha's face scrunched up in disbelief. "Why the  _hell_  should I be happy?!"

Amara grinned as though she'd devised the most intelligent idea on the planet. "I'm spending  _all_  of Marik's money!"

A'isha groaned as her palm met her face. "The Rare—" She stopped, remembering that mentioning a criminal organisation in a public setting probably wasn't a great idea. At least, not with Marik around to call her out on it. She lowered her voice, continuing; "Marik's man harem steal rare Duel Monsters cards and sell them on the black market for  _enormous_  profits. He'll be  _loaded_."

"Does that mean I can buy even  _more_  clothes?" Amara squealed, squirming on the spot with growing anticipation. "Because there were a few clothes that I left behind and I—"

"Just hurry up!" A'isha growled, miffed by how that whole discussion had just majorly backfired. She left a pouting Amara in her wake as she stormed off in search of Marik, figuring that the most self-centred jerk on the planet wouldn't wait around for Amara. Just this once, perhaps he could intimidate her into wrapping up her silly shopping fest.

As A'isha zigzagged through clothing racks in search of Sir Jerk-A-Lot, one particular garment ensnared her attention, hanging from a rack that had a sign perched atop it, reading "New Arrivals" in both Arabic and English.

The garment to have caught her eye was a showy dress, the silk dyed a striking shade of royal blue, a thin belt in the same silk material cinching in the waist to accentuate the feminine curves of its model, while the V-neck bared a very modest amount of cleavage. She loved the way the article flowed freely from the thin belt to its end, designed to sway effortlessly at the knees with every step the wearer took. It was simply pretty.

The dress occupied A'isha's thoughts as she continued her search for Marik. Fortunately, she was tall enough to peer over the racks, noticing a head of platinum blond hair at the counter, where she had just settled the bill for the bag of things in her hand. She quickened her pace, reaching Marik just as he turned to walk in her direction, the weaved straps of a paper bag held loosely in his tanned grip.

A'isha's eyes dropped to the bag, Amara's antics quickly slipping from her mind. "What's in the bag?" she asked, following his every step as he arrogantly strode past her, back the way she'd just approached him from.

Hearing her query, Marik stopped, his blond hair swaying as he turned to face her. She didn't miss the sneer. "What does this shop sell, little Ish?"

"Did you buy yourself a nice dress?" she shot back, smiling sweetly.

"Actually, it's for you," Marik answered, unfazed.

A'isha blinked twice. "Wha… You picked out something for  _me_?" She soon remembered the business dinner. It must've been for that. "Hey! I didn't even get to try it on! And I just saw a dress that looked good for your silly dinner!" She glanced at the bag once more. "Can I at least  _see_  it?" she asked, reaching forward.

Marik's smirk grew as he held the bag out of reach. "No," he said simply, mirroring her sugary smile from earlier.

"But- But it's probably hideous!"

"It's a surprise, Dear A'isha," Marik stirred, only to savour another stony scowl from the vexed girl.

A'isha sucked in a deep breath, gathering a little composure. "Can you please at least  _look_  at the dress that I like?" she tried to reason with him, hating his ever-present smirk. Ish had a feeling his amusement stemmed from the fact this was the most civil she'd been since they'd met.

Marik soon spoke up. "How memory fails you. The last time I offered my opinion on a clothing item you'd tried on, I was only met by hostility."

A'isha gnashed her teeth, struggling to remain calm. "Maybe that was because the last thing I tried on was a  _bra_  and I didn't  _ask_  for your opinion!"

"And now you're inviting me to look you up and down in this dress and tell you what I think?"

A'isha's brows gathered. "Well now you're just making it sound like I'm  _asking_  you to check me out."

He played dumb. "Is that  _not_  what you're doing?"

She immediately looked unimpressed. "You're just doing this so I won't  _want_  your opinion… aren't you?"

Marik mockingly raised his brows. " _Do_  you want my opinion anymore?"

"Will you quit throwing my questions back at me!"

Marik chuckled. "Well, do you want my opinion or not?"

A'isha wrung her fists, huffing loudly. "Gosh, you are  _such_  a  _prick_!" she barked. "You even make Amara seem like good company!"

She spun on her heel, failing to fight the infuriating image of Marik's triumphant smirk as she marched off in search of Amara. It only took a few seconds to spot the seemingly walking pile of clothes that was her cousin. A satisfied simper slid across her lips as she spared a one-eyed glance back at Marik, if only to savour the shock on his face.

"That girl cannot be serious," she swore she heard him breath.

A'isha hid behind a rack, snickering behind a tanned hand as she savoured the sight of Marik struggling to comprehend her cousin's shopping addiction. Her curiosity spiked when reality caught up with him, willing the blond to march right on up to Amara.

"Anything that is not on the counter in ten seconds will  _not_  be paid for," Marik growled, while A'isha watched on with laughing eyes.

The sentence had barely left his lips when Amara, struck by panic, scrambled past them both, wrestling with her minimal self-control over whether or not to ignore the clothes that tumbled off her clothing pile and onto the floor. She managed to resist. Barely.

Amara was soon dumping the pile atop the counter, splaying the articles out before a gawking cashier. A'isha and Marik were close in tow, the former clearly relishing the latter's clear vexation as they reached the counter.

"All- All of this?" stammered the teen boy behind the counter, his hazel eyes shifting between the three of them.

"Unfortunately," Marik muttered, shooting a glare Amara's way, prompting the girl to rub her neck somewhat sheepishly. It seemed the jerk had actually managed to unsettle her—for once.

A'isha leaned toward Marik. "Didn't I tell you she'd make it  _three_  shopping sprees?"

"Don't even start with me." He rubbed his temples, rather aggravated. "If that dress you mentioned isn't on the counter in the next twenty seconds, you'll just have to leave it behind." The mocking lilt in his voice was enough to make A'isha dash for the "New Arrivals" rack and quickly gather the enticing garment into her arms, hoping she was grabbing the right size. She didn't miss his subtle perusal of the dress as she set it onto the counter.

As they left the store – Amara loudly complaining about how sore her arms were – Marik fell in line with A'isha, his steps in sync with her own.

"The dress you selected is quite nice." He paused. "However, I insist that you wear my selection."

A'isha scoffed, glaring at nothing in particular. "Whatever you say, Mr Control Freak."

* * *

The rest of their shopping went much the same way. A'isha would purchase a sensible amount; Amara would go all out, having a crack at milking Marik for all he was worth. If anyone could make that saying ring true, A'isha bet it was her shopaholic cousin.

Although Ish had planned on going without, Marik had reminded her that makeup would be appropriate for their business dinner, so just to shut him up she'd grabbed enough for a simple, yet elegant look. Amara wasn't quite so low-maintenance. She'd bought a ridiculous number of products, insisting that it was better to have too much rather than too little. That was her excuse for shoes too; she'd bought at least fifteen pairs, while Ish had chosen a measly three: flats, chucks and boots. The last place they visited was a pharmacy, where they bought socks and generic hygiene products.

They dumped their shopping in Marik's silver sedan, which proved to be far more difficult than it should've been. They quite literally had to stuff Amara's bags into the trunk and the back seat, leaving close to no room for Amara to sit on the ride back—or at the very least, it would be a tight squeeze. A'isha supposed it was lucky the girl was teeny tiny, meaning she didn't need a whole lot of space anyway.

Ish set down her purchases in the space below the glove box, perfectly happy to sacrifice a bit of leg room to avoid Amara whining on the way back, or "borrowing" any of her new things. The shopping bag with her three pairs of shoes was on top of her small stack of bags, leaning semi-open.

A'isha straightened, having leaned over to plonk her things in the front seat. She immediately tensed, realising Marik was directly behind her, glancing over her shoulder at the bag of shoes.

"I take it you don't care for high heels?"

"Do you  _want_ to see me trip and fall on my fa—Don't answer that." A'isha groaned, irritably rubbing her temples. "High heels are awful shoes and I don't know how anyone can stand them, or stand  _in_  them for that matter."

"Your cousin thinks she can." Marik stifled laughter and took two steps away from A'isha. Observation was never out of favour.

"Yeah, the key word in that sentence being  _thinks._ She has two left feet."

"I'm right here, y'know!"

"Yes, Mar, I  _know_ you're right there! You haven't stopped complaining about having nowhere to sit for the last five minutes!"

Marik felt his lips curl into a near-genuine smile as he watched the two females before him continue to squabble over one trivial thing and then another. "As much as I would love to see how your little spat concludes, I assume you'd prefer to have something besides that soup." His attention fell on A'isha, in particular. "You really don't seem to care for it, Ish."

Her face soured as she glared at him. "Anything but that soup." The phrase was almost bitter, but it was tempered by the prospect of a more palatable meal.

"You're the one that waited until it was cold before consuming it." Marik swept his right hand back towards the mall. "Shall we then?"

A'isha needed no second heeding. Amara on the other hand, was still trying to cram her purchases a little further into the back seat, freeing up more room for her tiny butt. The girl was close to tears and bordering on frantic. She did have a knack for stressing herself out, something A'isha silently admitted they had in common.

With a resolute sigh, A'isha softly set her hand on her cousin's shoulder and gently pulled her back from the door. "Don't fret, Mar." The phrase was soft, not agitated. "We're both stressed right now and food makes everything better", she forced a strained smile, "right?"

Mar showed a weak smile of her own. "I… could probably eat, like, five large packs of fries."

A'isha shook her head disapprovingly, despite her smile remaining. "I'll never completely understand how you perpetually nibble on everything but absolutely gorge on McDonald's. You know how bad that is for you?"

"Oh, shut it! Stressed, remember?" Amara crossed her arms. "Comfort food is perfectly reasonable." She then gestured to her figure. "And these hips don't lie."

"I hate that song and you know it."

Marik spoke up. "Need I remind you that I am the one with the money here and am happy to return to the boat without dinner?"

Both girls hushed, concluding that any food besides that Godawful soup was far more important than having the last word.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Of course, their ceding meant Marik got the last word instead. No surprises there.

The smug blond turned on his heel, arrogantly striding toward the shopping centre. His captives needed no instruction to follow close behind, and they soon found themselves in a bustling food court. Tall, lush potted plants were dotted around the area, scattering pops of colour throughout the busy space. It was definitely around dinner time, given the mere handful of free tables and the buzz of conversation that filled the air.

Marik was a few feet ahead of her, while Amara was at her side. He stopped and turned to face them, his attention settling on Ish. "We already know that Amara wants to stuff her face with McDonald's fries. What do you want?"

"Actually, McDonald's fries  _do_ sound pretty good right about now." A'isha knew that sounded quite hypocritical, after she'd just told Amara how bad the popular chain's products were, but she reasoned that she'd had a rough enough weekend to deserve it. "I also need to use the restroom." She bitterly crossed her arms, her orange shirt creasing. "Y'know, in case I need your permission to walk off and do that."

Marik glanced between the two girls. "Well, I trust you are capable of sorting out your dinner and your bladders while I order my own food. Ish, I believe you are still in possession of one of my credit cards, which you can use to purchase your meals. Once I have purchased mine, I'll find a table for us to occupy."

 _Boy, he loves the sound of his own voice,_ A'isha thought, barely resisting the desire to roll her eyes.

Meanwhile, Marik had narrowed his own eyes threateningly. "It would not be wise to attempt an escape." He tapped once on the golden rod tucked under his belt. "Remember, Dear A'isha, you wouldn't get very far."

"Wouldn't  _dream_  of it," she mocked.

Marik only smirked at her sarcasm, before suavely spinning on his heel to wander off into the crowd.

A'isha stared the jerk down for a few seconds, hating the truth his words held. She couldn't deny that the idea of trying to escape was tempting, but his damn magic stick complicated things. Failure was near certain, punishment even more so.

"Ish?" Amara spoke up, stealing her from her theorising. "Are we gonna get something to eat or what?"

A'isha gave a stiff nod. "Yeah," she breathed, heading for the McDonald's she'd spotted upon entering. "C'mon, Mar."

They soon joined a short queue, lining up behind a young couple who were currently placing their order and a mother and son who were waiting to place theirs, the son seemingly pushing his luck by badgering his mother over his desire for a chocolate sundae.

A'isha breathed a sigh of relief, some of her stress depleting for the time being. For a moment, she imagined she was here of her own accord, holidaying in Marina. If only…

In any case, it was amazing to finally be rid of the infuriating jerk, if only for ten minutes. Dealing with him was absolutely exhausting, draining her in the physical and the mental sense. She could only hope her sanity would still be in tact when –  _if_  – she returned to Alexandria.

"Hey, Ish?"

The girl in question glanced at Amara. "Yeah?"

"So before I was thinking this, but I didn't wanna say it in front of Blondie. Do you think we're on the news?"

A'isha cocked her head slightly. She had to give the girl some credit, that was probably one of the smartest things she'd said since they'd found themselves in this crazy situation.

"Yeah, I would think so," she answered, her voice hushed to avoid any eavesdropping. "It isn't exactly normal for two cousins to just disappear into thin air and Ahad  _does_ work for the police."

Amara adopted her cousin's hushed tone, whispering for what felt to A'isha like the first time in the girl's life. "Do you think people might recognise us? Like, what if someone asks if we're the missing cousins or tell the police that they saw us here?"

"Boy, I hope so. The only problem is that Marik can get out of pretty much any situation with that stick of his." She missed the confused look Amara sent her way at the mentioning of Marik's rod and its supposed powers. "That'll be why he doesn't care that we're out and about—"

"Hi there," a clucky voice made them jump, seizing their attention. The dark-haired girl behind the counter was beaming at them. "May I take your order please?"

Amara spoke up first, apparently forgetting all about their prior conversation. "Yeah, could I please get five large fries and a large coke?"

The cashier recited Mar's order as she popped it into the electronic register. She soon smiled over at Ish. "And for you, Miss?"

"Uhh…" A'isha quickly scanned the menu overheard, displayed upon a few fancy television screens. "Can I please have a regular cheeseburger combo with coke?"

"Not a problem. Will that be all for today?"

"Yes, thank y—"

"Oh!" Mar butted in. "Also, a regular- no, make that a  _large_  pack of McNuggets with sweet and sour sauce."

"All right." The cashier added the request to the register. "Anything else?"

"No, thank you," A'isha answered, before Amara could do it for her.

"Okay. That'll be one hundred and thirty-four pounds please."

A'isha thanked her as she withdrew Marik's card from her back pocket, using it to settle the bill with the pay-wave feature. She glanced at her cousin as she tucked the card back into its former resting place. "Do you need to use the restroom?"

"Nope!"

"In that case, can you please wait for our order and find Marik's table while I use the restroom?"

"I suppose so."

"Thanks, Mar."

The older teen scanned the food court for a restroom sign, quickly noticing a neon blue one half way across the food court. As she made haste for it, she could sense a particular pair of lavender eyes on her. Ish didn't need to find their owner to know he was watching her every move, aware that if either of his captives would attempt an escape, it would be her. After all, Amara was a follower, easily influenced by others, her bravery stemming from her clique of bratty friends.

A'isha thought back to when Marik had crushed her phone, right after making her to tell Dani that she was sleeping with the creep. Amara had stood up for her then—and against  _Marik_  of all people! She had to give her cousin credit for that.

Though even with that in mind, Amara would only try to escape if A'isha suggested it and quite frankly, A'isha doubted the ditzy girl would get very far on her own. Marik thought they were both wrapped around his finger in one way or another thanks to his Millennium Rod. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right.

A'isha rolled her blue eyes. The only thing escaping today was an aggravated groan from her lips. Relief wrapped her in its warmth as she entered the corridor and left Sir Jerk-A-Lot's sight.

 _Marik can always watch me through someone else though_ , she reminded herself, shoving aside a door that bore a female restroom sign. She pushed through a second door, the heavy object swinging shut behind her just like the first.

A'isha was sourly greeted by her reflection in the mirror ahead, its water-splattered surface spanning from the ceiling to the off-white bench with built-in sinks. She quickly averted her eyes, failing to forget that she looked like she'd been hurled through her own personal tornado. Now that she had fresh clothes and hygiene products, the first thing on her agenda upon returning to Marik's launch would be a long, hot shower. She didn't even care that Marik might have a tiny camera hidden somewhere in their bathroom. All she cared about was feeling  _clean._

 _Now I understand those cliché movie scenes where people wash their face in the public restroom,_  she thought momentarily _. A splash of cold water on my face sounds great right about now._

As she entered the nearest cubicle, she decided that she might just have to splash her face afterwards while washing her hands, hoping the small action might cheer her up – if only a fraction.

* * *

A few minutes later, A'isha re-entered the food court, feeling somewhat refreshed after chucking some cold water over her face. She scanned the dining area, easily spotting Marik's platinum blond head of hair.

She weaved her way through a sea of occupied dining tables and slipped into the seat beside Amara, who had opted on sitting across from Marik. While she figured her cousin had sat opposite him in a sad attempt at subtly ogling at his pretty-boy face, A'isha was grateful all the same that she wasn't the one having to look at it.

A'isha spared a glance at the greyish brown trays laid out on the table, covered with various foods. Amara was trying to daintily eat her McDonald's fries and nuggets. If Marik hadn't been here, A'isha knew the younger girl would be stuffing her face instead. Meanwhile, Marik had chosen a falafel with a coffee—probably black, like the one he'd had back on his launch.

Without a word, A'isha's eyes dropped to the tray before her. Her stomach growled impatiently as she dug into her own food. She was about half way through her burger when a tanned hand snuck into her line of sight, stealing a handful of fries.

"Hey!" she shrieked, glaring up at Marik. "Lay off! You have your  _own_  food!"

He flashed a smirk as he popped them in his mouth. "Who paid for them?" he countered after swallowing.

A'isha's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, I'm sure this shopping trip is really breaking the bank for you," she said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

He reclined into his chair, unfazed. "It certainly made more of a dent than I had anticipated", his eyes narrowed on Amara, "thanks to Miss Vanity over here."

Amara giggled sheepishly, her tanned cheeks quickly reddening.

"Well I  _did_ tell you she'd make it  _three_  shopping sprees." A'isha finished off her burger, then turned to her fries.

"And I really appreciate the new wardrobe!" Amara chimed in, as though trying to remedy the awkward situation.

A'isha stifled a bitter laugh. "Amara, I'm sure you think these past two days are the best thing to ever happen to you."

"Well I  _did_ get a free wardrobe out of it."

In her head, A'isha was face palming.  _She really is about as ignorant as they come…_

"What about you, Ish?" Marik said with a smirk, once again using her nickname to tick her off. "How would you describe these past two days?"

"Hell brought to life," A'isha answered in forced nonchalance. She refused to grant him the satisfaction of seeing her riled up at his hands. Before he could reply, she swiftly continued, "It looks like we're all finished eating. Can we go back to the launch now?"

Marik quirked a brow, his smug expression remaining. "Why so eager to return to the launch? This is the last taste of freedom you'll have for a week."

 _So I can try to savour some peace and quiet somewhere far, far away from you,_  she silently answered, absently staring off into space.  _It's not like I'm getting any while we're out in public._  A scowl weighed down her lips, though when  _wasn't_  she scowling in his infuriating presence?

"I'm fine either way," Amara commented. "I can't wait to go through my new wardrobe!"

A'isha glanced back at her companions just in time to see Marik roll his eyes at her cousin. He eyed the two girls as he left his seat, briefly patting down his pockets. Ish assumed he was checking his keys and wallet were still there.

"Let's head back then," he announced, smirking at A'isha as though awaiting some sour comment.

A'isha refused to deliver one. Instead, she wordlessly left her seat, following his lead, while Amara exclaimed an enthusiastic "Yes!" They followed close behind the blond, making haste for the parking lot.


	12. Chapter 11: Flashbacks and Phasers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you're having a great day or night wherever you are in the world! Just a quick note, there's a flashback in this chapter, which we indicate by putting it in italics. We hope no one minds. Also, the chapters prior to this have been touched up and somewhat rewritten; we plan on doing the same to the rest of the chapters of this fic sometime in the future, but until then we hope that the writing is still enjoyable (and that it was before, haha). Enjoy the reading!

**Chapter Eleven: Flashbacks and Phasers**

The town of Marina flashed by like a blur as they trailed through familiar roads that led back to Marik's launch. Street lights sparked to life around them as the warmth of the sun slowly conceded to the tranquil glow of the moon. A'isha's attention was out the window once more, blue eyes fixed somewhere beyond her reflection on the passenger window. Regret had crept its way into her mind. Why had she been so eager to get back to that slave ship in the first place? Sure, she  _might_  be able to find somewhere that offers some well-earned peace and quiet. But then again, despite the fact they'd no longer be in public and therefore Marik wouldn't need to watch her like a hawk… he could still find her and drive her mad if he really wanted to.

Her attention turned to the side mirror out the window to her right. Through it, she noticed Amara had somehow dozed off in the back seat. Quite impressive considering she was basically drowning in shopping bags. Her eyes left the mirror, instead looking at nothing in particular as they gazed out the window once more.

While she still could, A'isha tried to savour the sliver of normality brought forth by gazing out a car window. For a moment, she imagined Dani was in the driver's seat. The thought brought a small smile to her lips. He had just picked her up and they were heading back to his place for popcorn and a horror movie marathon. They were planning on watching the Paranormal Activity movies. Despite being terrified of horror movies, she found them tolerable – even enjoyable – when she could bury her face into Dani's chest at the scary, suspenseful parts...so for most of the movies. And half way through the second movie, sleep's soft calls, accompanied by the gentle rise and fall of his chest, would lull her to a pleasant sea of dreams. At least, that had been the plan before Marik showed up and took that all away from her.

A'isha glanced at the occupant of the driver's seat, her expression souring. She really hoped freedom was right around the corner, for she could tell that stress was already taking its toll, weighing her down with exhaustion and anxiety. She checked her right pocket, exhaling through her teeth as she found it empty and why.

She jumped when Marik spoke up. "What are you thinking about this time?"

Her gaze fell on the blond, whose eyes were set on the road that rolled out before them. His expression was blank, unreadable. She couldn't tell if he was being genuine or if an infuriating comment was right around the corner.

"Y'know, here I was thinking you had a natural ability to read people that your twig only enhanced." She released a deep sigh. "Guess I was wrong."

"You miss Dani." He paused. "You're angry at the one that took that all away from you." His attention on the road didn't waiver, though she found herself wondering if he was merely avoiding her gaze. That would be a first. "And you wonder when I'll return what I took." An all too familiar mocking edge was present in his next words. "Worried that Dani feels discouraged by your new lover?"

A'isha's eyes narrowed, her arms folding across her chest as she glared at the blond beside her. "To quote the great Shakespeare himself, thou art unfit for any place but Hell." She paused. "In other words, you belong in Hell."

"I see your wit is as nimble as your tongue," he countered with a smirk. "As for whether your assertion is accurate, I learn a great deal by merely observing you, and letting you talk as long as you please, and taking note of what you do not say."

"You're insufferable!"

"You're looking out the passenger window." He pulled over to the side of the road and finally looked her way. "Not at the mirror, not through the wind-shield. But through the passenger window." His left hand slid off the steering wheel. "You've also checked your right pocket twice; and both times have found it empty."

"It's empty because you broke my phone."

"I am to assume your right pocket is where you kept it while a passenger in a vehicle or while on foot." He pulled a black model of the same phone from the back compartment between the front seats. "I must admit, you found a more than adequate place to put it while you drive." He nonchalantly dropped it back into its place.

"Now you're just taunting me," she muttered, slumping into her seat a little with folded arms.

An odd half smile snuck onto his lips, a silent confession to the accusation. Her only response was to huff as her bitter gaze returned to the passenger window. She couldn't be bothered looking at his stupid, smug face.

A'isha was surprised when her less than amicable company didn't press her further, and instead opted to turn his attention back to the road, eyes glancing over his shoulder as he flicked on the indicator. Three seconds later he was merging back into traffic.

The rest of the drive "home" was silent, aside from the anything-but-ladylike snores coming from the back seat. Before she knew it, they were driving up a ramp that led to the built in garage at the back of Marik's launch. Through her peripheral vision, she caught sight of a tanned hand clicking a small, grey button on a black remote that had previously rested in one of two cup holders. A mechanical groan met her ears, the sound reminding her of a garage door closing. It was the ramp lifting off of the dock to double as a wall. Any light in the room became artificial as the ramp slowly came to close.

A'isha heard the crackling of plastic and paper shopping bags from the back seat. The ramp must've woken up Amara. Well, the silence was nice while it lasted...

"Finally…" Amara murmured groggily, though her next words held more enthusiasm. "Oh, I can shower and try on my new stuff!"

A'isha frowned, glancing over her shoulder at the younger girl. "Not before I take a shower," she insisted, the words coming out a little more bitterly than she'd hoped for. Maybe her cousin would have enough common sense to realise she wasn't the biggest reason for that bitterness.

"But-"

A'isha tried and failed to gather any patience she had left. "Mar, you showered this morning."

"And got back into these dirty clothes after!" the girl moaned. "Plus I had to use hand soap!"

"That's still a step up from no shower at all, so you can wait!" A'isha's gaze snapped back to her front, another huff leaving her lips as she caught sight of an amused stare from her captor.

"No longer fazed by the thought that there may be a camera in there, are we?"

A'isha glowered at the smirking teen, ignoring the whining from the girl in the back, who was fighting through a sea of bags to reach her door handle. "I don't even care at this point, so if there  _is_  a camera in there then feel free to have a field day with the footage!"

"There is no camera in there, so you can stop worrying that pretty, little head of yours." He paused, mirth flashing in his eyes. "Though I'll admit the thought is tempting, considering you apparently have no qualms over what I'd do with the footage."

"Ugh! You're a pig!" she snapped, before shoving the passenger door aside and basically leaping from the car, avoiding Marik's stare as he left the car in a more composed manner.

A'isha ripped her bags from their place below the dashboard as she sourly muttered something about sick, twisted perverts. Amara spoke up beside her, juggling a heap of bags that she'd hung all the way up her arms. "Again, are you flirting or..."

A'isha stiffened at those words, any and all patience having depleted thanks to the infuriating  _boy_  who was now silently gathering his own shopping from the car boot. She could just picture the entertained grin on his smug little face right now. "Does it LOOK like we're FLIRTING?" she growled.

"Well, yeah it kinda-"

"If you think  _that's_ flirting, then it's no wonder you let guys walk all over you!" she hissed, immediately regretting the words when the girl grew silent, hurt swimming in her hazel eyes.

The older of the two turned away, attempting to dismiss Amara's hurt expression from her mind. It didn't work. She inhaled and exhaled once in a semi-successful attempt to calm her nerves. Her fists loosened at her side, and she wondered when she'd even clenched them in the first place. "That was too far," she murmured softly. "I'm sorry, Amara."

A'isha turned on her heel and stepped over to the silent girl. She wordlessly took a few of the shopping bags from Amara, before taking her leave from the garage in the direction of their room.

* * *

Around five minutes later and after a few back tracks, A'isha finally found their room. As she expected, the door was unlocked, and she struggled with the shopping bags hanging over her arms as she shoved the door open and stumbled into the room. She cocked a brow when she caught sight of a building through their one and only porthole.

After dumping the bags in a corner, she wandered over to the window and glanced outside. She hadn't expected Marik to let her just wander off unsupervised when they were still docked. What was to stop her from ditching this slave ship?

 _Amara…_ she silently answered, wondering if the girl was talking Marik's ears off right now. She hoped so. It was the least that jerk deserved. Though she doubted he'd put up with anything he really didn't care for. He'd shut her up in an instant. She briefly wondered why he hadn't been more controlling on their excursion just now. After all, he didn't strike her as someone who'd do  _anything_  without purpose.

Clumsy footsteps ripped her from her thoughts. More calculated ones soon followed. Guess she hadn't been talking his ears off. She turned to find Amara juggling her many shopping bags, whilst Marik only carried two, neither of which looked to belong to her cousin. She wasn't surprised.

Amara heaved a sigh of relief as she dumped her bags down on the only bed in the room, unless the make shift bed in the linen cupboard counted. She then collapsed onto the bed amid the ocean of bags.

A'isha glanced at Marik, her visage hardening. "You could've helped her."

"I think I've been gracious enough today." He wore a quizzical look, though his taunting didn't go unnoticed. "Wouldn't you agree, Dear A'isha?"

" _Stop_  calling me that!"

"He  _did_ buy us all of this stuff," Amara chipped in as she straightened to a sitting position on the bed.

"Because he kidnapped us!"

"Apparently that apology of yours didn't last long." Marik seized their attention. "You're already going at it again."

A'isha gave an eye roll. "Don't you have siblings or something?"

Marik left his place in the doorway, starting to close the distance between them. "Do I look like one for petty arguments?"

"That's all our conversations ever are," she countered, barely keeping her voice level.

"Oh really?" He stopped before her. The unsettling smirk he wore filled her with unease. "I prefer Amara's description of 'playful banter'."

A'isha gave a fake-wretch. "Sorry-" She paused, hand on her chest as though regaining her composure "-I think I just threw up a little in my mouth."

"Well," Amara spoke up, "if you two are busy talking, can I go have a shower while it's not in use?"

A'isha turned away from the blond to look at her cousin. "Our conversation was just ending. So no, I'm still showering first."

Marik chuckled. "I need to get rid of these bags anyway." His eyes narrowed mirthlessly. "Then perhaps I'll pay a visit to the camera room."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Get. Out." She wasn't the least bit surprised when he made no move towards the door.  _Of course… One does not simply tell Marik to leave a room._

She glared at him and his stupid, unwavering smirk as she slammed a balled fist against a nearby wall-switch. The bathroom was revealed behind the wall, while she stormed over to her shopping bags to retrieve a change of clothes and a bag that contained all of her hygiene products, before she marched past the now-chucking blond and into the bathroom. She wished she could slam the door behind her, but thanks to Sir Jerk-A-Lot she had to settle for slamming another fist against a damn wall-switch instead.

A'isha released a sigh when the wall slid into place, leaving silence as her only company.  _That jerk had better make himself scarce before I finish my shower._  She groaned as another thought popped into her head.  _But what if that means he really_ is  _in his creepy camera room doing who knows what. Or rather… doing_ everyone _knows what._

She set down her clean clothes, then minutely scanned the room, hardly settled by the fact that she couldn't  _see_ any cameras. Marik's word wasn't exactly enough. Her eyes fell on her reflection and a jaded sigh left her lips as she was reminded of just how terrible she looked.  _Why Creeper McCreeperson would want footage of anyone looking like_ this _is beyond me._ She ran her hands through her hair, cringing at how greasy it felt.  _Oh right, he probably gets some kind of sick satisfaction out of the fact he's the reason for it… Plus naked girls on a screen is likely the closest that arrogant jerk comes to getting any sort of "action"._

She rolled her eyes at that thought as she sought out her hygiene products, the bag crackling as she searched through it. She set a bar of lavender soap and an unscented cleanser on the bench, frowning as she withdrew her shampoo, which smelled strongly of lotus flower. The store had been out of her usual strawberry scented shampoo… She would've opted for vanilla instead, had she not caught that same scent when Marik had walked past her earlier that day. Oh great, she was thinking about him when she was just about to shower. A'isha scoffed, hoping Amara's mind was the only one he'd read at this point.

A'isha shook her head slightly in a barely successful attempt to shove any thoughts of the infuriating boy from her mind as she got on with her shower.

* * *

Half an hour later, A'isha left the bathroom, towel dried hair loose around her shoulders, while her body was covered by an oversized shirt and loose-fitting pants. She couldn't resist yet another eye roll at what she saw. Amara had obviously been too impatient to wait for her to finish her shower before exploring her new wardrobe. The girl had littered the floor with her new clothes, and was currently sitting cross-legged on the floor herself, busy deciding which shirt would best pair with which jeans and what shoes would best pair with which jacket.

A'isha glanced at the camera that hung from the wall in one corner of the room. "I hope you haven't been  _trying on_ your clothes."

Amara looked up at her. "Of course not. There's a camera, silly!"

"That was my point." The older girl sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Anyway, the shower's free."

"Finally!" Amara cried, scooping up one of her many outfits before finding her feet.

Really? You always take ages, so you can hardly complain when I decide to…  _Especially_  given the circumstances."

"Fiiiine," her cousin replied. "I'll admit you  _do_ have a point." With those words, she shuffled into the bathroom and closed the wall behind her, leaving A'isha to her thoughts.

Ish scanned the room, a little unnerved by the mess. She wasn't exactly a neat freak, but she  _did_  prefer to actually  _see_  the floor of a room, though she refused to tidy up a mess she hadn't been responsible for.

A'isha glanced at the nearby porthole, noting that it was now dark outside. They'd gotten back here at around six, so it was maybe a quarter to seven by now give or take. It felt like later...or perhaps she was just exhausted due to a combination of being on her feet for most of the day and dealing with arrogant jerks.

She soon noticed Amara's bed across the room, no longer covered by shopping bags since those were all now scattered across the floor along with her clothes. Her bed looked far more appealing than the mattress behind the wall that housed the linen cabinet, not to mention Amara would likely be in that bathroom for an hour or more.  _She'll just have to deal with that oh-so-comfortable mattress tonight instead_ , she decided, tip toeing through hoards of clothes before slumping onto the bed. Despite the camera in the corner, she quickly drifted off into a sleep void of dreams.

* * *

An unknown amount of time had passed when the low hum of a boat motor confirmed that A'isha had returned to reality and that they were now on the move once more. She stirred, inhaling deeply as she rolled from her side onto her back. She did a satisfying stretch, savouring the peace and quiet that enveloped the room, save for that pesky motor.  _Wait-_ Her eyes opened.  _Amara's never silent...even when she's asleep._

A'isha propped herself up on the bed, scanning the room for any sign of the ditzy girl. The room was tidier, much to her surprise. The linen cabinet had been revealed, and some of Amara's clothes had been folded and placed in it. She quirked a brow at the fact her cousin was actually taking some responsibility for her mess.  _Unless she's just trying to be the first to take the minimal storage space in this box of a room._

Ish soon realised her bladder was the reason she found herself awake right now. She decided on dashing to the bathroom… Then she'd go hunting for her cousin, hopefully not encountering Marik in the process. Considering her luck, she doubted it. But this vessel  _was_ full of his seedy Rare Hunters, so she'd feel better knowing where the younger girl was.

A few minutes later found A'isha leaving their room, gently shutting the door behind her. She straightened when a loud, yet distant laugh met her ears, mixed with a few deeper laughs.  _Well, finding Amara was easy...but who the heck is she laughing with!?_ She felt uneasy at the thought of Amara hanging out with Marik's man harem, but who else would it be? There were a few laughs and she doubted Marik cared much for the frustrating girl's company, or anyone else's on the launch for that matter.

She tip toed down the corridor, around a corner and took ten steps, before the sound of a movie she didn't recognise met her ears. Light flashed through the doorway of a dark room that she recalled Marik stating was one of their more frequented lounges. She stopped just shy of the doorway, opting to eavesdrop rather than make her presence known.

"Oh my gosh, Borat cracks me up!" came the familiar voice of her cousin.

A few laughs followed. "Yeah, this movie's a classic," a deep voice spoke up.

"Y'know Greg over here's actually from Kazakhstan," another deep voice stated.

"No way!" she heard Amara cry. "Is it really like this there?"

"I wish, girly," Greg replied.

"I'd  _so_  go there for the laughs if it was." She heard Amara giggle. "So where are you from, Jordan?" The question came out almost flirty…

"South Africa," the first, deep voice replied. "Johannesburg, to be exact."

"Awesome! I  _so_ wanna go there one day and do a safari!"

A'isha couldn't resist a face palm. Of course Amara couldn't help but chat up a freaking Rare Hunter. She silently shuffled away from the door in the direction of their "accommodation", definitely not wanting to be a part of that conversation. She stopped when her stomach groaned. Why did she always get hungry after McDonald's?

With a resolute sigh, she changed course, deciding to pay a visit to the kitchen before returning to hers and Amara's shared room. Hopefully she could find something besides vegetable soup.

A'isha was surprised at the lack of difficulty she'd had finding the kitchen. She peaked inside. Empty.  _Thank the gods…_

She made her way over to the fridge, groaning when the first thing she saw upon opening it was a large container filled with that bland and barely palatable soup. "Noooo thank you," she muttered as she searched the drawers for something a little more enticing.  _Sadly I doubt Marik keeps his chocolate bars in public areas,_  she thought, wishing she hadn't as she was now craving the same one that he'd given her earlier that day.  _That one he grabbed from here must've been a one off..._

The bottom door had some fruit. She settled on an apple, deciding it would at least put enough of a lining on her stomach to dismiss the feeling of hunger. Closing the fridge behind her, apple in hand, she took a small bite as she spotted some chocolate syrup sitting on the bench. The same syrup Marik had used to attempt a café mocha for her earlier today. She opted on making a hot chocolate, deciding it was the next best thing to quench her chocolate craving.

A'isha flicked on the jug, then retrieved a mug from the same cabinet that Marik had grabbed one from earlier, right before announcing his proposition. Maybe the deal wasn't so bad… She wouldn't be in this kitchen making hot chocolate if she'd said no, though she knew she'd eat those thoughts come the night of their dinner.

She noticed this room had larger windows. The sound of bubbling water was distant to her ears as she wandered over to the closest window, while subconsciously munching on her apple. The kitchen looked out onto the starboard side of the boat. It was completely dark outside, save for a few lights splashed through the darkness beyond the rear of the vessel. She assumed that was the mainland, which only led her to believe they were heading straight out to sea. Unease reared its ugly head in the form of sickening knots in her stomach. Were they going to Europe? There wasn't much else in that direction.

The click of the jug tore her from her thoughts, confirming the water had boiled. She looked at the lights for a few minutes more, their ever-growing dimness only heightening her dread. Finally, she turned back to the task at hand, tossing her apple core in the bin before stepping over to the jug to finish preparing her drink.

A minute later, A'isha slipped into a seat at the nearby dining table, setting her mug down beside her. Her cerulean eyes dropped to the mug, as her hands loosely wrapped around it, welcoming the heat it offered. Her hold on the mug tightened as she raised it to her lips, drinking the sweet contents half-heartedly. The warmth of the beverage channeled through her, before settling in her stomach. She focussed on that feeling as she downed another mouthful, allowing it to soothe her somewhat. Then her hands, still gripping the mug, rested on the table once more, her arms holding her weight as she leaned against the cool, wooden surface. Her grip around the mug loosened, its base hovering barely an inch above the table. She rolled it around in her grasp and watched as the contents swished about in response. The sight thrust a two-year-old memory to the forefront of her mind.

" _What's up, Buttercup?" a cheerful voice played, snapping the girl from her reveries._

_Awareness sparked to life, washing away the absence that had just glazed her blue eyes. "Huh?" A'isha voiced, her eyes rising to meet two hazel irises that belonged to her friend._

" _You've been staring at that mug for going on five minutes," the brunette girl stated, concern etching onto her youthful visage. "Something's bothering you."_

_A'isha heaved a sigh, recalling the events of yesterday evening. It had been a Friday and at the last minute, A'isha had been appointed the task of babysitting Amara while Aunt Elissa and Uncle Ahad went to a friend's for drinks and to stay for the night. Being tasked with the responsibility should not have surprised her. It happened more often than not; however, it had surprised her this time, for she had told Elissa well in advance that she would be staying at Julie's house that night in order to avoid being tasked with the responsibility of babysitting her younger cousin. A'isha's grip tightened on her mug as fury bubbled within her._

_When her aunt had announced that she would be babysitting Amara and her two friends, who were over for a sleepover, she had gone nuts, screaming that she had organised to stay at Julie's way in advance to ensure Elissa wouldn't make her babysit. The situation had turned into an all-out screaming match between the two._

_When Ahad had returned home from work ten minutes into the ordeal, he had naturally sided with his wife and sent his niece to her room. However, A'isha's stubbornness had clouded her judgement, so she had contacted Julie, telling her what had happened and that her caregivers had already left, thus she had no means of transport to Julie's house, not that they would have taken her to her friend's house anyway. Julie had easily convinced her mother to pick up A'isha, after the latter had told Amara that she would do her homework for the next week if her cousin did not reveal that she had gone to Julie's._

_The plan was near-flawless, as Elissa and Ahad had stayed over at their friend's and A'isha could simply say that she had met up with Julie in the morning. The only potential threat was Amara opening her big mouth, which A'isha deemed quite likely even though the girl had an incentive to hide the detail from her parents. Amara was infamous for blurting things out without a second thought. And A'isha knew that once the week was up and her homework deal with Amara had come and gone, all bets would be off and the younger of the two would have some dirt on her. But A'isha hardly cared. As of late, she was in her aunt and uncle's bad books more often than not anyway. She was sick of playing the role of Amara's nanny, and was beginning to seek some form of control over her life. Maybe it was a teenager thing. She was fourteen, after all, and beginning to find herself as an individual, making decisions for herself that she deemed were in her best interest._

" _Heeeeeellooo," Julie sung, snapping her fingers in front of her friend. "Eaaarth to Ish! Anyone home?"_

_A'isha heaved a sigh, briefly wondering when her attention had returned to the mug that contained her hot chocolate. "I'm sorry, Julie," she stated as her eyes met her company's. "I'm just stressing over the dramas of last night."_

_A'isha watched as Julie raised a white cup to her lips, tea no doubt swishing within it. Julie loved the stuff. Ish's attention shifted to the steam that floated up from the object, fading into nothing as it was soaked up by the atmosphere._

" _Are you worried that Amara will tell on you?" Julie asked after taking a sip of her tea._

" _A little," A'isha stated as she rested her elbow upon the polished wooden table and cupped her chin in her palm. "You know what a big mouth she is."_

_Julie nodded, resting her tea cup on the table. "I must admit, this is one of your more…reckless ideas." She rested her elbows upon the table, threading her fingers together and allowing her chin to rest upon her threaded fingers._

" _I don't have many other options." A frown weighed down A'isha's lips. "You've known me since preschool, Jules. You know that Ahad and Elissa have always seen me as Amara's nanny more than they see me as someone to take care of."_

" _Yeah…" Julie's frown matched A'isha's. "Why do you think it was so easy to convince my mum to pick you up?" she asked, rhetorically of course. "I left out the part about you sneaking out, but she knows that there was a misunderstanding." Julie offered a reassuring smile. "Mum hates how your aunt and uncle treat you. She's always telling me how you're such a nice girl with a whole lotta character, how it's always a pleasure having you around and all that. She adores you!"_

_A'isha flashed a small smile, flattery easing her a little._

" _Anywaaaaay," her friend continued, gesturing to the laminated menu on the table's wooden surface. "I'm ready to order if you are."_

_A'isha nodded twice. "I'm getting Eggs Benedict."_

" _Typical Ish," Julie stated with a laugh. "When do you_ not  _get Eggs Benedict when we go out for breakfast?" Her hazel eyes scanned the café for a waiter or waitress to flag down. She had ordered their drinks at the counter, grabbing a menu from a nearby stack as she waited for their beverages. A'isha had found a seat in the meantime. Therefore, they had not yet been assigned a waiter._

_It only took Julie a moment to seize the attention of an employee, who flashed a cheerful grin her way as he approached. The boy looked about their age, though he was taller than the average fourteen year old guy. His eyes were as blue as the sky on a hot Egyptian day, his golden locks of hair smoothed behind his ears with a small amount of gel. His skin was lightly tanned, with a few pimples dotting his forehead, though predictable of a boy his age. He had a strong jaw and sharp features. His eyes made him look older, confidence far beyond his years gleaming within their depths._

_A'isha immediately recognised him as Daniel Wyatt, one of the most popular guys in their grade. She stiffened, intimidation enveloping her within its daunting embrace. He was the star player of their grade's football team, which automatically stereotyped him as an unintelligent, but egotistical jerk. A'isha felt awkward at the mere thought of him serving them, fearing he'd be a total ass to them. She wasn't unpopular at school, but she wasn't popular either. Being on the dance squad helped her to be in good graces with the student body, but ultimately she stuck to a few close friends, because she found that the more people she had in her circle of friends, the higher the risk for petty arguments. She wasn't cold to her classmates. She just wanted simple, to compensate for the lack of simplicity in her household._

_A deep voice jolted her from her thoughts. "Good morning, ladies." A'isha blinked, realising Daniel now stood beside them, looking down at them where they sat. She found his white teeth distracting as he flashed a toothy grin at Julie and herself. "What can I do for you?"_

_Julie took the lead. "We grabbed our drinks from the counter, so we haven't been assigned a waiter yet."_

_Daniel's grin widened. "Well it would be my pleasure to take on that role," he stated warmly, withdrawing a notebook from his pocket and a pen from behind his ear. "The name's Dani." Then his smile faltered slightly, a thoughtful look replacing the cheerful expression. "Hey. . .You guys go to my school, don't you?"_

_Julie nodded, smiling at the fact he'd recognised them. "Guilty as charged," she stated, before glancing at her friend. A'isha knew that Julie was wondering what had caused her sudden silence; she was rarely shy or quiet around anybody. She took a gulp of her hot chocolate in order to look like she was doing something besides being silent._

_Dani laughed. "Yeah, I know you two!" he stated, realisation gleaming within his blue eyes. "Julie and A'isha, right?"_

" _That's right!" Julie stated enthusiastically. "I can't believe you know our names."_

" _Of course I do," Dani stated with a smile. "You were in my music class last year." His attention turned to A'isha. "And you, Miss Mute, were in my science class in sixth grade."_

_A'isha blushed at both the address and that Dani had noticed her silence. Guilt etched its way into her mind. . .Perhaps he wasn't as slow as she had imagined. "I can't believe you remember that. It's been three years and we never even talked."_

_Dani's smiled stretched wider. "I'm an observant guy." Ish finally speaking up seemed to have brightened his mood furthermore. "Anyway, I'm guessing you two lovely ladies already know what you're getting?"_

" _Uh huh!" Julie voiced, sliding the menu across the table so that it rested directly before her. Her eyes scanned the list of dishes. A mere second ticked by before her index finger tapped a spot on the menu. "I'll have this one please. The blueberry pancakes."_

" _Certainly." Dani tapped the end of the pen against his hip and A'isha heard it click faintly as the tip of the pen presented itself. He quickly scribbled the word down, murmuring it aloud as he did so. A moment later, his eyes fell on A'isha. "And for Miss Mute?" he ribbed, flashing a cheeky smirk._

_A'isha couldn't resist a smile. "Eggs Benedict please," she stated with no preamble. She didn't even glance at the menu._

_Dani chuckled as he scribbled that down too. "You said_ that  _quickly!"_

" _She's_ obsessed  _with Eggs Benedict!" Julie informed._

" _Yeah, I always get it when I go out for breakfast," A'isha added, fighting away the blush that grazed her cheeks…again._

" _So do I," Dani remarked with another laugh. "Now, will you be having that with bacon, salmon or spinach?" His eyes flashed playfully. "You seem like a bacon kinda girl."_

" _Well don't you have me down to a T," she jested. For the time being, all her worries concerning the events of last night had now been banished from her mind. She was already feeling an odd fondness for the boy. Not many could cheer her up like this. "Yes, I'll have bacon please."_

" _Yes Ma'am." His eyes fell to his notebook and he added that little detail as well. "Now, do you two like cheesecake?"_

" _Yes," Julie answered, "but we're not rich enough to get dessert too."_

" _Yeah," A'isha began, a teasing smirk snaking onto her lips as an amusing comment presented itself to her. "We tried to get a job here, but our teeth weren't distractingly white enough for your boss to employ us."_

_Dani laughed. "Why thank you, A'isha," he said, knowing that A'isha was, in a way, complimenting him on his smile. He smirked then. "Glad to hear I'm distracting to you."_

_A'isha blushed, realising that Dani was flirting with her. Julie nudged her foot against Ish's beneath their table and the latter glanced at her friend a second later to find the girl flashing a sly grin her way. Ish's face reddened further when Julie winked at her._

" _Anyway, who said you two were paying?" Dani interjected with a raise of his brow, a playful grin still plastered upon his handsome face. "This one's on me, for you two lovely classmates."_

" _Th-That isn't necessary!" A'isha exclaimed, waving her hands back and forth dismissively._

" _You're right." Dani's smirk vanished, a warm smile taking its place. "But I'm doing it anyway. After all, I've never met a girl that didn't like chocolate cheesecake."_

_A'isha giggled, then mentally scolded herself as she realised this charming young man was reducing her to a giggling little girl, reminding her of Amara and the hyper girl's friends, who were currently going through what she hoped was only a boy-crazy phase. If it was permanent, she was sure her sanity would deteriorate within weeks. And yet, why did she find she enjoyed feeling this way?_

" _Was that everything, ladies?" Dani queried, snapping her out of yet another reverie._

_Both girls nodded, smiling gently at the boy._

_He tucked his notebook into his front shirt pocket and clicked the end of the pen once before placing it upon his ear once more "Then I'll go place your order and grab you both a slice of cheesecake."_

_With that, A'isha watched as he spun on his heel, journeyed across the café, behind the counter and through a door that she assumed could only lead to the café's kitchen. She smiled almost dreamily, resting her chin in her palm as she considered how wrongly she had read him._

" _Someone's crushiiiiing," Julie said in a sing-song voice, laughing at A'isha's distracted state._

" _And what?" A'isha countered, giggling._

" _You're right." Julie smirked. "He's nice, funny, hot and, from what I hear, he's smart." She raised her brows suggestively. "He's got the whole package. . . But I've already got Aiden, so I'm gonna leave this one for you." She winked. "Besides…he was_ so  _flirting with you."_

" _Shush, Julie!" she shrieked. "One of his co-workers might hear you!"_

" _Well, y'know what I think you should do?" Julie continued, her words now hushed because of her friend's prior request._

" _What should I do?"_

" _Ask for his number."_

_A'isha gasped, another blush flushing her cheeks red, to the point that it even showed through her dark complexion. "N-No!"_

" _Oh come on, Ish!"_

" _No way!" A'isha cried, shaking her head profusely. "He'll say no and the whole school will find out!"_

" _If you don't do it," Julie stated, her tone surprisingly serious, "then I will."_

" _You wouldn't do that," A'isha countered._

" _Oh yes I will." Julie flashed a cunning smirk. "And I'll say you were too embarrassed to do it yourself."_

_A'isha's groaned, defeated. Her stomach squirmed, nerves battering her insides and making her queasy. Or she was just hungry. "Fine," she almost spat, pouting as she folded her arms across her chest, demonstrating her displeasure at the idea. "I'll ask for his number when he comes back." Her eyes narrowed on a now-snickering Julie, and she pointed a finger her way. "But if he says no, I'm telling him you put me up to it!"_

" _He won't say no."_

_A'isha was silent for a moment, her mind conjuring up hypothetical scenarios of her and Dani together and playing them in her head like a film strip flashing before her eyes. Then a thought occurred to her. "Hey, Jules," she spoke up, her thoughtful tone suggesting she had a question for her friend._

" _Yes?"_

" _Y'know how we saw that psychic lady with your mum that one time?"_

_Julie blinked twice, curiosity sparking to life within her hazel eyes. "Yes…" she drawled out. A'isha could tell that Julie was wondering where this conversation was heading. She didn't have to wait long for her answer._

" _What did that lady say the initials were for that guy I'm supposed to end up with?"_

_Julie flashed a small smile. "M. N. I." she informed, shaking her head slowly, no doubt humoured by how superstitious A'isha was being. "But you shouldn't focus your life on what one woman said."_

" _That's true." A'isha's elbow found the table and her chin rested in her palm once more. "It's easy to make up a set of initials."_

_Julie nodded. "Not to mention she also said the guy would be tall, dark and handsome."_

" _Why is that far-fetched?" A'isha shrieked._

" _You're not_ that  _hot, Hun," Julie baited, taking on a sassy tone of voice. Soft laughter followed her words. "Just kidding. But remember the shirt you were wearing?"_

_A'isha snickered. "My Shemar Moore shirt."_

" _Exactly!" Julie exclaimed with a pump of her fist. "So, knowing you crush on that juicy hunk of a man, it's only logical that she'd describe your future hubby's appearance to that of our beloved Shemar's."_

_A'isha looked unimpressed, though a moment later her playful words proved the look was merely a façade. "You just had to go and ruin my excitement at spending my life with a tall, dark and handsome man. . . didn't ya?"_

" _Oh please," Julie ribbed. "Killing your buzz is your family's job."_

_A'isha scoffed. "Don't remind me," she groaned, cupping her head in her hands._

" _When we're eighteen, we're so living together."_

" _The day we move out together will be a glorious day."_

" _Oh yes!" Julie flashed a playful smirk. "It'll be you, me, Aiden. . .and Dani...all under one roof!"_

_The brunette laughed when A'isha glowered in response. "Stop iiiiit," she whined, laughing softly when Julie continued to tease her by winking._

" _Make me."_

_A'isha huffed. "I would if we weren't in public."_

_Julie glanced to her left, across the café. "And speaking of making people do things…" She straightened in her seat, a smirk inching onto her lips. "Here comes Dani-kins."_

_A'isha's eyes followed the direction of her company's and a blush immediately crept onto her cheeks as she caught sight of the blond boy, skilfully handling the four plates that held each of their requested dishes and a slice of chocolate cheesecake for them both. Apprehension clawed at her stomach like a rat clawed at the bars of its metal prison._

" _Aww…" Julie drawled, smiling sweetly at Ish. "He's even trying to impress you with his plate-handling skills."_

" _Shush, Julie!"_

" _I must say this is a glorious sight."_

" _Why's that?" A'isha almost muttered. The unease that racked her mind was making her bitter._

" _Well you know I love to eat." Julie snickered into her hand. "And not only is he bringing me food –one of my favourite things in the world... He's a HOT guy bringing me food!"_

" _You sound like Amara!"_

" _But I'm not like her. I'm subtle, and have a respectable amount of class."_

_A'isha snickered. "I won't dispute that."_

_The two girls straightened awkwardly as their topic of conversation approached their table once more._

" _Blueberry pancakes for Miss Julie," he announced, setting down each plate as he did. "Eggs Benedict with bacon for Miss Not-So-Mute-Anymore." He placed the last two plates on the centre of the table. "And two chocolate cheesecakes."_

_A'isha grinned at the blond. "Do you always formally announce each dish?"_

" _Only for the VIPs," he countered with a smirk. "Is there anything else I can do for you lovely ladies?"_

_A'isha felt a nudge on her foot and turned her attention to the brunette sitting opposite her. The anticipation ridden across the young girl's face said it all._

" _N-No, that's everything," Ish stammered as she looked back at Dani to avoid her friend's 'I knew you wouldn't' look. "Thanks, Dani."_

" _No problemo. Just give me a call if you change your mind."_

" _Will do," she replied, watching as he returned to the kitchen. Her attention then turned to Julie, who was busy holding back laughter._

" _You are such a WUSS!" she suddenly cried out. "I was so tempted to ask him how you were supposed to give him a call if you changed your mind, if you didn't even have his number!"_

" _Oh shut up and eat your pancakes!" she retorted, fighting back a grin as her cheeks burned with embarrassment._

_Julie chuckled quietly to herself, but complied with A'isha's request all the same, deciding to strike up more casual conversation topics like school, her band practice and Ish's dance squad. Their plates were soon empty, while their stomachs were quite the opposite._

" _Gosh, I'm so full I think I'm gonna have to roll on outta here," A'isha stated, slumping back into her seat and tracing a hand over her bloated stomach._

" _You and me both, Ish," her company agreed. "But not before you write your number on this napkin-" She slid the napkin across the table to A'isha, then rummaged through her bag for a moment "-using this pen." She scanned the cafe and soon located Dani at the counter. "And give it to Prince Charming."_

_A'isha heaved a sigh, slumping a little further into her seat. "Fiiiine," she groaned, before straightening in her seat and taking the pen in her right hand. She pulled the napkin close and neatly wrote her number on its surface, complete with a smiley face._

" _Great! Now let's go pay, shall we?"_

_The troublesome twosome sluggishly gathered up their things, their movements twice as slow thanks to their full bellies. Dani flashed another handsome smile their way as they approached the counter._

" _How was everything?" he chimed, glancing between the two girls, though his attention seemed to settle on A'isha a little longer._

" _Delicious!" they answered almost in sync._

" _How much do we owe ya?" Julie continued._

_His eyes dropped to the cash register as he started tapping on its screen. "You paid for your drinks when you first got here, so… the pancakes were sixty two pounds...and the Eggs Benedict was sixty five."_

_Julie snuck in front of Ish. "I'll pay first," she stated, before sending a sly look A'isha's way. She settled her share by card, then turned to her friend. "I'll meet you outside." A teasing smirk tugged at her lips as she sauntered outside the cafe, A'isha watching as she left, cheeks reddening as she made a mental note to get back at Julie for all of this. Dani's deep voice yanked her from those thoughts._

" _How will you be paying, Miss Mute?"_

_A'isha gave a nervous smile as she flashed her card his way. "I'll pay with my card please." Her voice cracked a little as she spoke._

" _No problemo!" He tapped on the register a few times, before the card machine beeped once, then lit up._

_Only when she swiped her card on the machine did she realise how sweaty her palms were, a tell-tale sign that she was nervous...and that she found the boy over the counter attractive. The word "ACCEPTED" soon flashed on the screen._

" _Th-Thanks for today," A'isha murmured, mentally beating herself up over how shy she was being. She slipped her card back into her pocket, her hand brushing over the napkin, wrapped up in a ten pound note. She paused, nerves freezing her where she stood. Then she gripped both items in her slightly shaking hand._

" _Hey, thanks for coming in, A'isha." He grinned. "It was great to get to know the two of you a little better."_

" _W-Well, on that topic-" Before she could even think to be embarrassed further, she pulled out the napkin and ten pound note and handed it to the blond boy, who seemed to be stifling a grin of anticipation as he unfolded the napkin "-if you were, well, interested… maybe we could hang out sometime."_

_Suddenly, Dani flashed the biggest grin she'd seen on him. "I'd love to!" A'isha cocked her head as he pocketed the napkin only, before holding out the ten pound note. "But you can take this back." He smiled warmly at her. "The napkin in my pocket is the best tip you could've given me."_

"Thinking about Dani again, are we?" A'isha was thrown back to the present by a familiar voice. The absent haze of her eyes vanished as reality caught up with her. Her eyes left the now-empty mug to find Marik staring at her. She blinked twice, wondering when he'd entered the kitchen and exactly how long he'd been standing there.

A'isha set down her mug and straightened in her seat. "What makes you ask that?" Her eyes narrowed. Had he used his twig to read her mind?

He shrugged and that's when she noticed the Rare Hunter cloak. "That dress of yours is all-purpose, huh?" She figured she'd try to be semi pleasant...maybe then he'd be slightly less arrogant so she wouldn't want to rip his head off like she had earlier this evening.

"It fulfills the need for modesty and I'm preferential to the generous pockets." He pulled them inside-out to show the size.

After a moment, he raised his brow, a silent reminder that she had not yet answered his question.

"You're clearly not thinking about your obligation with me at the week's end." He stepped over to the counter, retrieving the coffee from a shelf as he went. "So where, Dear A'isha, does your mind wander if it's not focused on your abandoned beau?" His voice was loaded with an uneasy combination of curiosity and nonchalance that made A'isha furious for only a second; it certainly didn't do any favours to let the feeling have more headspace than that.

He flicked on the coffee machine, before retrieving a dark brown mug from a nearby cabinet. The hum of the machine briefly reminded Ish of home… Of Uncle Ahad preparing a steaming hot coffee to sip on as he watched the morning news, ranting about current events while she sat on the other couch with her usual weekday breakfast, a bowl of fruit loops. Eventually, A'isha would grow tired of listening and would retreat to her bedroom.

A laugh from her company regained her attention. "Perhaps  _now_  you're thinking about that obligation, considering the frown on your face."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" She gave a half-hearted, dry sort of laugh. "But no. I was actually thinking about frustrating males who don't know when to shut up, so I can see how you came to that conclusion."

"I know you've just had something," he began, ignoring her jab, "but perhaps I might interest you in a coffee." He glanced between her and the machine, which rumbled as it poured steaming hot liquid into his mug. "You look as though you need it."

A'isha sighed, deciding to ignore the borderline insult. "I don't know how you can drink the stuff so late at night."

"I don't plan on sleeping for a few hours yet."

A'isha glanced at the analogue clock on the wall above the door that led to a hallway. "It's nearly midnight. How can you function on so little sleep-" She paused. "Actually, that explains a lot." She arched a brow, flashing a small smirk. "Maybe some beauty sleep would actually make you tolerable."

"Are you not tolerating me right now?" he countered.

"You know what I mean."

A'isha could've sworn she caught the beginnings of a smile on Sir Jerk-A-Lot's face. "Last chance before I clean the machine..."

"The only caffeine-filled drink worth having this late is a café mocha."

"Consider it done, Dear A'isha."

"Will you  _stop_  that?"

"You're dear to someone."

"Certainly not you." A'isha pushed the empty mug gently aside and passed air through her teeth. "Merely means to an end."

"Perhaps so, perhaps not." He moved towards the cabinet to pull a bright orange mug from the shelf. And then she knew exactly how he had snuck in. Socked feet.

"Is purple your lucky colour?"

"I tolerate the ideas of fortune, fate and chance Dear Aisha. Luck has no place. To ascribe value to an inconsequential trinket isn't something I have need for. I have everything I need already."

"Then why kidnap us?"

"It always seems to return to that..." He poured the coffee into the second mug.

"Well?"

He stirred in the chocolate syrup. "I leave nothing to chance and I do not care for liabilities."

"Is that all that you think we are?" She stood from the table. "Amara and I had friends, school, lives." She threw a glare his way. "And you took that all away."

"You had friends?" Marik narrowly avoided sloshing the finished drink all over the counter.

"Don't tell me you're jealous."

"As for the question of the lucky colour…" He drawled as he placed the finished beverage in front of her, to which she silently reclaimed her seat. He slid into the seat opposite her, his own mug steady in his hand. "Purple has been a hue ascribed to royalty for centuries due to the rarity of natural sources of the dye."

"Well you do make quite the princess."

She arched a brow when he said nothing. Perhaps he was too tired for endless, witty exchanges… which would explain why he was being surprisingly civil to her at the moment, save for a few teasing comments here and there. Her eyes dropped to the orange mug before her, watching as the steam evaporated into thin air. She took a small sip. "Thank you for the drink," she murmured softly. "It's not too bad."

Marik took a swig from his own mug. "Are you always up this late?"

"I woke up and Amara was gone. Found her hanging out with some of your goons and was about to go back to bed when I realised I was hungry." She took another gulp from her drink. "Why are you being so...bearable...for once?"

"It's late." He downed the last of his drink. "And believe it or not, I'm not always in the mood for playful banter, as Amara put it." He gave a small smile. It made her uncomfortable, purely because it seemed genuine.

A'isha groaned. "You're not gonna let that 'playful banter' thing go, are you?"

A smirk replaced his prior smile and oddly, she now felt more at ease. "Not if it still gets a reaction."

"What is it with men and getting a reaction out of women?" she murmured with a frustrated sigh.

His smirk grew. "So Dani does it too?"

"Not to the point that it's annoying," she muttered. "And why do you keep bringing him up?"

He cocked a brow. "I can't make small talk?"

A'isha snorted. "Why would I want to talk about Dani with the very person that forced to me to tell him- and lie- that I was cheating on him?"

"A better question might be 'Why would I want to talk to you at all?'". He re-filled his mug with a second helping of coffee. "And yet...your mug is empty and you're still here." She could tell he was biting back laughter. "So you tell me."

A'isha didn't know when a glare had slipped onto her face, but she welcomed it regardless. "I was here first." Even though it was true, the excuse made her feel like a child.

Marik opened his mouth to speak when a loud laugh seized their attention, coming from a nearby corridor. A'isha rolled her eyes when Amara's incessant rambling met her ears. A deep voice followed- it sounded like that Jordan guy she'd heard earlier. She hoped they weren't heading this way. The last thing she needed was Amara's loud mouthed squawking as she talked away to some seedy Rare Hunter goon.

Maybe it was a good thing that Marik was here… She doubted his Rare Hunters enjoyed being in his presence during their down time. Or any time for that matter.

Seconds later, Amara entered the room with a young guy in tow. He was maybe twenty at most, with lightly tanned skin and short, brown hair that was spiked up with gel. Admittedly, this Jordan guy wasn't bad looking, though his choice of profession still made him a creep in her opinion. She just hoped he wasn't seedy like the one she'd had the  _pleasure_ of encountering earlier today.

She noticed Jordan straighten upon realising his boss was in the room. "M-Master Marik," he uttered, bowing.

Marik merely glanced at him with cold eyes, which only seemed to make Jordan squirm. She minutely wondered if his demeanour had turned to stone in an effort to keep up appearances, considering only moments ago he'd actually been semi-relaxed.

"Oh- You guys are up late!" Amara announced, a blush grazing her cheeks. "We were just getting more snacks before watching 'The Dictator'. Sacha Baron Cohen is hilarious!" She paused. "Uhh, we aren't interrupting anything, are we?"

A'isha wore an expression of distaste. "Why would you be interrupting anything?"

"Well...it's late," Amara drawled, awkwardly twiddling her thumbs while Jordan rummaged through the fridge, "...and you're both in here...alone, err, together."

A'isha rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "Okay.  _One._ " She held up her index finger, "I have a boyfriend…  _Two._ " Her middle finger joined the first. "Blondie over here-" She motioned to Marik "- _kidnapped_  us." She paused for effect. "Need I say more?"

"I think you covered it," the girl replied, as Jordan came to a standstill beside her with a few snacks in hand, his uncomfortable expression proving that he was clearly still uneasy in Marik's presence. "Anyway, we're gonna be off now." They both stepped out of the room. "You two have fun doing...whatever it is you're doing."

A'isha's palm met her forehead as their retreating footsteps met her ears. Amara just  _had_ to barge in and make things awkward. Not to mention she was getting a little too cosy for comfort with this Jordan guy. She minutely wondered who was more seedy on this boat – Marik's goons or her cousin.

"Be glad she chose to spend her time with someone who has joined my employ solely to support his struggling family." Marik reclined into his seat, hands threading together as they came to rest behind his head. "Jordan doesn't have ill-intentions." He paused. "Though clearly there  _is_  something wrong with him if he's interested in little Amara."

A'isha had to bite back laughter at the fact she'd been thinking the very same thing. "What, is this supposed to make me think you have a heart somewhere in there?"

"You looked as though you needed some form of assurance that I don't always hire from the bottom of the moral barrel." He leaned against the table. "And perhaps a bit of humour."

Oh great, he'd noticed her holding back laughter. "Don't let it go to your head." She sighed. "Though who am I kidding, we both know you're going to."

"Pray tell, what ever would lead you to think that?"

A'isha detected the sarcasm in his words and had to grudgingly resist another smile. She set her elbows upon the table and leaned into her hands in an attempt to hide her lips from view, though she knew he'd noticed by the amusement that gleamed in his eyes. She quickly turned her attention out the window, while the blond sitting opposite her was silent.

For a moment, he simply watched her, no doubt amused by her rather obvious attempt at hiding a smile and wanting her to bask in the awkwardness of it all. Around half a minute past before he reclined back into his chair and closed his eyes with a content sigh. Another minute past before he spoke up, not even bothering to open his eyes. For once, A'isha was relieved to hear his voice. Anything was better than awkward silence right now, even if the feeling was one-sided, considering he didn't seem to care at all.

"I planned on watching a movie in my room before bed." He looked at her then. "Perhaps you'd like to join me? After all, I doubt you'll get much sleep while Amara's gallivanting around the place with her boyfriend in progress."

He had a point; she'd be too busy worrying about Amara to get even a wink of sleep. But the thought of hanging out with Marik beyond coincidentally encountering him in a kitchen didn't exactly sound appealing.

He leaned against the table. "Need I remind you that our act at the end of the week must be convincing?" Surprisingly, his words held no malice.

"You said yourself I can act." She scoffed. "Heck, there's this Amarillo girl at school who's a total cow and somehow I can still manage to be nice to her when I need to. That's practice enough."

"The poor girl's probably angry because she's borderline named after a fruit. Honestly, what were her parents thinking?"

"That's how she came to hate me." A'isha smirked. "I called her Tamarillo once by accident and she's never forgiven me."

"Your lack of tact in that situation only supports my assertion that you need to practice before posing as my fiancée." A small smirk tugged at his lips. "We can't have a slip up resulting in some rather distasteful consequences."

A'isha groaned at the fact she'd given him the ammunition for that one. "Fine," she drawled rather bitterly, a little nerved as Marik grinned triumphantly, leaning back into his chair.

She released a begrudging sigh. "What movie were you planning on watching?"

"Star Trek. The two thousand and nine film."

"Really?" She snorted. "Why's that?"

"I quite enjoy the futuristic appeal. And the entire franchise has an impressive history and still has an astounding effect on popular culture."

"I'm not terribly surprised." She sniggered. "I also bet there are enough aesthetically pleasing females gracing the screen to keep even  _you_  interested."

"I am not interested in that aspect. I am far fonder of the logic exemplified by Spock."

"I can totally see you hoping you'll live long and prosper."

It was Marik's turn to roll his eyes. He rose from the chair, scooping up both his and A'isha's mugs, and stepped over to the sink to leave the mugs in the sink basin. "If you will follow me," he murmured, before heading towards the exit.

A'isha left her seat and followed him to the doorway. "What about movie snacks?"

"There's a mini fridge in my room," he simply stated as he left the room with her following a pace or two behind.

"I knew those chocolate bars were hiding somewhere."

"There's only one left."

"Soooo fight to the death?" A shocked and slightly embarrassed look crossed her face. Had she just cracked a joke that she often used with her friends? In her head, she was face palming.

Marik was a few steps ahead of her, but she caught him snort with amusement. "We both know who'd win."

"Yeah, you're right," she drawled, subconsciously toying with her hair as she feigned a thoughtful look, even though he was ahead of her and couldn't actually see it. "I  _do_ have a lot of pent up rage right now that'll definitely ensure my victory."

Marik chuckled. "Let me know when you have something akin to the Millennium Rod to fall back to...then we'll talk."

A'isha's expression soured as she was reminded of his magic stick. Her eyes narrowed. Considering they would be watching Star Trek in his  _room_ , that had better be the only magic stick he "brought up" tonight or he really  _would_  find himself sterile. That occupied her thoughts as Marik guided her through the corridors that were growing increasingly annoying. How could anyone navigate these things with ease?

She almost walked right into Marik, who had stopped at a door that she recognised. He withdrew a key from his cloak pocket, unlocked the door and motioned for her to enter. She took cautious steps inside, still uneasy at being in his bedroom despite him insisting that the idea of "taking advantage" of someone was distasteful to him. After all, he'd still had the nerve to imply that very thing yesterday when he'd taken Amara.

Marik took two steps inside, closing and locking the door behind him. She glanced at the only source of light in the room at present, a lamp on his bedside table. Her attention turned back to her company to find him removing his cloak, revealing an admittedly well-toned chest. She looked away, partially because it was rude to stare but mostly because she was blushing, much to her distaste… Though she  _was_  thankful that he was at least wearing loose-fitting, black pajama pants or she probably would've had a heart attack.

A'isha frowned. "Y'know it's awfully suspicious when the first thing you do upon entering your bedroom with a girl in tow is remove your dress and reveal that you're shirtless."

"Well I plan on watching the movie from my bed. I'd do the same even without you here." He smirked. "Isn't this what a normal couple would do, my dear fiancée?" She knew he was holding back another Dani comment lest she demand he unlock the door and let her out right then and there.

"Let me make it clear that there will be  _no_  canoodling. I'm not one for PDA so we don't need to practice  _that_  for this dinner of yours."

"If me being shirtless really fazes you that much, perhaps you should set up the movie while I retrieve a shirt and some snacks?" He gestured to the entertainment system that was opposite his bed. "The Star Trek case is already sitting on top of the DVD player."

"Deal," she stated simply, watching as he shrugged back into his cloak and stepped into the nearby walk in closet.

Then she turned her attention to setting up the movie. It took maybe two minutes. The same amount of time that it took Marik to chuck on a black tank top, retrieve some snacks and hop under the covers of his bed.

A'isha hesitated when he glanced at her, then patted the spot beside him on the bed twice.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not asking you to hop under the covers and I doubt the floor will be particularly comfortable…. There  _is_  a chair over there-" He gestured to a corner of the room, "-but it's affixed to the floor and is not at the best angle to watch the TV."

A frown weighed down A'isha's lips as she warily slid beside Marik on the bed. She eyed the snacks he'd chosen: two cans of coke, a bag of buttered popcorn, some gummy bears and a single chocolate bar. So he wasn't kidding when he said he only had one left… Well, either that or he was withholding any other chocolate bars he had. She didn't care. Buttered popcorn was her favourite food, so she immediately grabbed that instead.

"Not going for the chocolate?"

"I'm content with the popcorn," she insisted, watching as he proceeded to pluck the chocolate bar from where it rested beside him, then sought out the remote on his bedside table and pressed play. The familiar theme song soon rumbled to life. Ish couldn't resist a small smile at the slice of normality the tune brought. She reclined into the plush pillows behind her, enjoying the slice of normality and relaxation brought forth by hopping in bed to watch a movie.

She couldn't help but get teary-eyed when Kirk's father died, briefly reminding her of her own parents' demise and the fact that Jim would grow up never knowing his father.

"Why is it that you live with your aunt and uncle?" Marik spoke up, making her straighten a little.

She rubbed her eyes, imagining her reaction to Kirk's father dying had sparked the question within his mind. She supposed it couldn't hurt to tell him. "My parents are both dead… I wasn't even three months old."

For a few seconds, she was sure he looked empathetic as his eyes dropped to the blanket that covered his masculine frame. Was he deciding on whether or not to say something? She soon had her answer. "I'm an orphan too..." His breathing was unsteady. "My mother died giving birth to me…" She thought she caught a hint of malice twisted through his next words. "My father was murdered."

"I-I'm sorry," she murmured, half-mindedly toying with the blanket beneath her. It was a piece of the puzzle that fit… But she felt like there was more to it than that. It wasn't exactly reason enough to bring about the inception of the Rare Hunters...or enough of an excuse for his ridiculous ego and minimal set of morals….not to mention the Millennium Rod. Though maybe the lack of a mother figure in his life was somewhat responsible for his mistreatment of her and Amara… not that there was such a thing as a valid excuse for kidnapping.

Marik was silent, and the humorous movie scenes that soon followed thankfully swept the emotions away.

They were about three quarters through the movie when exhaustion decided to hit A'isha like a train at full speed. Perhaps it was the fact that she'd seen this movie before, combined with the time, not to mention the glaring TV screen light in the dimly lit room made her squint which in turn made her eyelids feel heavy. She was soon drifting off…

A'isha felt movement beside her on the bed and smiled. She rolled onto her stomach, inched over to Dani and snaked her arms around him, resting her head on his chest as she threw her right leg over his own, nestling her leg between both of his. Her favourite sleeping position. She breathed a sigh of content, enjoying the warmth of his toned form against hers...the rise and fall of his chest… She felt so safe… So at ease … So—

"What happened to no canoodling?"

A'isha bolted upright on the bed as reality hit her, and hit her  _hard_. Her face went beet red as she quickly turned away from her smirking company. Though she didn't know why she was even  _trying_  to hide her embarrassment considering it was a given.

"I-I was basically asleep and thought you were Dani!" she insisted, just wanting to find a rock to crawl under and die. She didn't exactly like the idea of admitting she'd thought he was Dani in her sleepy state, but she'd rather that than him thinking she'd thought it was  _him_!

"Oh really?" He laughed, sarcasm dripping from the words that followed. "Here I was thinking you were getting a little  _too_ into this act of ours."

A'isha scoffed. "Not even in your dreams!"

"But perhaps in yours?" he teased, laughing at the scowl that was now directed his way, however a series of panicked and apprehensive knocks echoed through the rather large room before A'isha was able to respond.

Marik smirked at her, enjoying the results of his teasing for a moment longer before he paused the movie, left the warmth of his bed and retreated into his closet. She assumed he was retrieving the key to his door from his cloak. Her suspicion was confirmed when he reappeared a moment later, key in hand, and stepped over to unlock the door.

A'isha watched as he opened the door to reveal a Rare Hunter that looked quite surprised to see her.  _Oh great… I'm sure this doesn't look suspicious at all,_  she sourly thought.  _Alone with Marik, currently sitting on his bed in what could be deemed as "mood lighting"._  All at once, she slumped back into the pillows behind her and averted her gaze, looking anywhere but the direction of Marik and his goon.

"This had better be important," she heard Marik growl.

"My apologies if I am interrupting, Master Marik." Unease was ridden through his words, as he held out a cell phone. "I...I have someone asking for you, Master. She refused to leave a message."

"She?" A'isha watched as Marik withdrew from his pocket the same phone he'd shown her in the car, and his frustrated exhale left no doubt that there was indeed at least one missed call on the device. He gave an aggravated sigh as he almost snatched the phone from his servant. "Return to your post."

"Y-Yes, Master." She watched the Rare Hunter scurry off, no doubt glad that encounter was now over and done with. Marik closed the door, though failed to lock it, before holding the phone to his ear.

"Of course you'd have the gall to call me on this line and at this hour, you vexing little bird."

A'isha could only just make out their conversation.

"I tried your personal number… You didn't pick up and I was lonely..." It was a woman's voice...sultry...teasing… Her every word sounded like silk. "You aren't busy are you?" A'isha heard a coy laugh. "I thought I was the only woman in your life."

A'isha bit back a laugh.  _Oh man… Don't tell me that he DOES have a girlfriend?_

Marik smirked as he paced back and forth around the room. "Actually, Little Benu...I do have company and you just so happen to be interrupting."

Oh god. Was he flirting with this Benu woman?

Another laugh. "Oh, how juicy… Dear Mister R.H. has company? Is she pretty?" She paused. "Or  _he_? I promise I won't judge."

A'isha scoffed when Marik glanced at her, smirking from ear to ear. She glared at him with folded arms. "Don't tell me you're actually looking at me for an answer to your girlfriend's 'Is she pretty' question?"

"Oooh… So a girl?" Benu must've heard her voice through the phone. "I must admit I'm surprised. That girly eye liner and vanilla scented shampoo could've fooled me."

The scowl Marik wore at those words made A'isha love the woman on the other line. She barely suppressed laughter at the fact this woman had just grilled Marik and had actually gotten away with it.

"There has to be a reason you're calling at this hour, Dear Benu…" He paused, smirk returning. "So enlighten me."

"If you insiiiist," Benu teased through the phone. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your girlfriend."

 _She can distract Sir Jerk-A-Lot for as long as she likes,_  A'isha thought with a smirk

"Now enough with the pleasantries..." Benu's voice was suddenly stern. "I have intel that I know will be worth your while, so I suggest that you find somewhere a little more  _private_  so that we may continue our little chat."

Those were the last words A'isha perceived before Marik ducked into his closet. Then she heard only faint mumbles. After a moment of trying and failing to eavesdrop on Marik getting grilled a little more, her gaze travelled to the door he'd failed to lock. This was probably a good opportunity to take her leave, seeing as he was currently a little preoccupied and she didn't really know him well enough to tell if he'd just let her go without pestering her a little first. She figured he wouldn't make things easy. And even if Amara wasn't back, she figured she would still manage to fall asleep considering she'd just done so moments ago.

Decision now final, A'isha slipped off of Marik's bed, her sense of hearing zoning in on the faint mumbles from the nearby closet as she tip-toed to the exit. Relief washed over her as she managed to slink through the door and into the hallway unnoticed, before taking soft steps in the direction of her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, we have no intention of pairing Marik and Benu. The only love interest Marik will have in this fic is A'isha. Benu is Ataahua's original character and just has a way of sneaking into all of our stories. Anyway, we hope you're enjoying this fic! Please feel free to leave a comment to let us know what you think so far, even if it's something short. :D


	13. Chapter 12: Addressing A Dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! You may get some deja vu with the first scene as it starts out as being the same scene from the end of the last chapter, but in Marik's POV. There's also stuff you don't see. We just wanted to make sure you don't think we've gone crazy when you recognise some bits at the beginning, haha. Enjoy the reading!

**Chapter Twelve: Addressing A Dress**

They were perhaps an hour and a half through Star Trek, Kirk and Scotty having just beamed aboard the Enterprise. Marik straightened a little beneath his sheets, minutely savouring a stretch before his hands threaded behind his head as he reclined into the pillows.

A rather intriguing scene was right around the corner. Spock's sudden outburst and assault of Kirk as the young Vulcan reached breaking point, ultimately conceding to the feelings of rage and grief brought forth by the death of his mother and the destruction of his planet.

Lavender eyes shifted from the screen to his company. Marik smirked at what he saw. A'isha had surrendered to the soothing calls of sleep and was now curled up on top of the sheets, arms wrapped around one of his pillows. Perhaps his dear 'fiancée' wasn't as bothered by her cousin's late night escapades with Jordan as he had first believed. He silently admitted that she must have been pretty exhausted to have fallen asleep around him too, considering she had expressed her wariness of his intentions multiple times since they'd met.

The unrelenting words of Kirk pressing Spock past breaking point seized Marik's attention. For a moment, he wondered what A'isha's breaking point was and  _when_  he would reach it. He knew the girl had a temper, though she was equally stubborn and refused to yield to that anger beyond hissing words of disdain and disgust his way. He had to acknowledge that the girl was stronger than most, having stood up to him when stronger men have cowered like weakling puppies, scampering away with their tail between their legs. A'isha, on the other hand, stood her ground and was ready to accept the consequences of doing so. Pride and determination flowed through her veins, melding into one and granting her the strength she needed to stand up to him. He admired that about her.

Marik shivered, the action snapping him out of his reveries. It must have dropped a degree or two since they had entered the room. He briefly ran his hands up and down his arms in an attempt to dismiss the goosebumps that had blanketed them. It was probably a good thing he had opted to wear a tank top as it was at least able to combat the cold from the bare skin of his chest.

The thought reminded him of when he had first entered his room tonight. He had removed his cloak with the intention of exposing his back to the girl who now slept beside him. The action had stemmed from curiosity at what her reaction would be, not to mention he had used his back as a means of intimidation in the past with satisfying results. The blush brought forth by his bare chest had only been an amusing bonus. Excitement and anxiety had laced into one, an odd combination that danced and writhed within him, before his better judgement had caught up with him in the form of vulnerability, willing him to cover the scars and avoid the string of questions that would no doubt follow. Or maybe it had been the double dose of caffeine kicking in.

Those thoughts were banished to the dark recesses of Marik's mind when he shivered again. He shuffled further into the sheets, exhaling as he welcomed the warmth brought forth by his bed. His gaze returned to the film flashing on the screen before him. That is, until he heard scuffling beside him. Before he had a chance to react, two warm arms were curling around him: one in the small space between his neck and the pillow, while the other hand inched under the sheet that separated them, coming to rest upon his clothed chest. He was met by a black head of hair as A'isha nuzzled her head in the nook beneath his chin, her chest against his as her right leg slid over his own, settling in the space between both of his legs.

Marik released the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He didn't know whether to feel amused, aroused or tense. He settled on all three. Though he couldn't resist a smile as he realised he was no longer shivering. The blond savoured the warmth for a minute longer before finally speaking up.

"What happened to no canoodling?"

He smirked as A'isha jolted upright on the bed, reality slapping her hard across the face. He barely suppressed a laugh when she turned away from him in an obvious attempt to hide her humiliation.

A moment later she stuttered out, "I-I was basically asleep and thought you were Dani!"

Marik's smirk grew. Of course A'isha was making sure he hadn't thought she was  _knowingly_  snuggling up to him. Like  _that_ wasn't obvious!

"Oh really?" He finally gave in to laughter. "Here I was thinking you were getting a little  _too_ into this act of ours," he teased, sarcasm dripping from every word.

A'isha scoffed. "Not even in your dreams!"

"But perhaps in yours?" He couldn't resist another laugh when she finally looked at him, glaring daggers his way.

A series of panicked and apprehensive knocks seized their attention before A'isha had time to respond. Lucky for her. She would've only embarrassed herself further by opening her mouth anyway.

He watched her, enjoying her squirm with humiliation for a moment longer before he paused the movie, left the warmth of his bed and retreated into his closet to retrieve the key to his bedroom door.

The teen left the closet a moment later and stepped over to his door, unlocking it with ease and opening it to reveal one of his older employees. Aaron, was it? Or Ashton? Oh, it wasn't important enough to remember.

Marik couldn't help but notice Aaron, Ashton or whatever his name was as he stared at A'isha, no doubt wondering what the girl was doing here so late at night. He suppressed a smirk. Perhaps he could have a little fun with this and give his ignorant mind slave the impression that he truly  _was_  intruding on something. They  _had_  just been 'canoodling', after all.

"This had better be important," he growled, ensuring the words came out particularly sour.

"My apologies if I am interrupting, Master Marik." He noted the pathetic unease etched through the man's words as he held out a cell phone. "I...I have someone asking for you, Master. She refused to leave a message."

"She?" Marik already knew who it was. He withdrew his phone, exhaling in frustration as he noticed there were three missed calls. He gave another aggravated sigh, anticipating the anything but joyous conversation that awaited him, as he almost snatched the phone from his servant. "Return to your post."

"Y-Yes, Master." Marik barely resisted the urge to slam the door, lest the woman on the other line hear it. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing the mere idea of talking to her right now irked him.

He pressed the phone to his ear. "Of course you'd have the gall to call me on this line and at this hour, you vexing little bird."

"I tried your personal number… You didn't pick up and I was lonely..." He stiffened slightly. The teasing, silky edge her words possessed only reminded him of previous endeavours he'd rather forget. "You aren't busy are you?" She gave a coy laugh. "I thought I was the only woman in your life."

Marik smirked, hoping the action would induce the frame of mind required to deal with Benu at this hour. He began to pace back and forth around the room, something he always did when on the phone. "Actually, Little Benu...I do have company and you just so happen to be interrupting." It wasn't exactly a lie.

Another laugh. "Oh, how juicy… Dear Mister R.H. has company? Is she pretty?" She paused. "Or  _he_? I promise I won't judge."

Marik resisted the urge to scowl. He couldn't have his dear captive seeing him fazed. Instead, he glanced at the girl who still sat on his bed.

Ish scoffed. She could no doubt hear Benu through the phone. Her clear unease as she folded her arms, glaring at him, made his smirk grow. "Don't tell me you're actually looking at me for an answer to your girlfriend's 'Is she pretty' question?"

"Oooh… So a girl?" Benu must've heard A'isha. "I must admit I'm surprised. That girly eye liner and vanilla scented shampoo could've fooled me."

Marik's eyes narrowed as a scowl finally made itself known across his tanned visage. "There has to be a reason you're calling at this hour, Dear Benu…" He paused, smirk returning as his tone become taunting. "So enlighten me."

"If you insiiiist," Benu teased. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your girlfriend."

Marik rolled his eyes at her words.

"Now enough with the pleasantries..." Benu's voice was suddenly stern. "I have intel that I know will be worth your while, so I suggest that you find somewhere a little more  _private_ so that we may continue our little chat."

Marik needed no second heeding. He spun on his heel, striding across the room and ducking into his closet. A minute amount of relief washed over him. At least he no longer had to keep up appearances in front of Dear A'isha. However, ensuring his frustration was not evident in his words was another thing entirely.

"I'm alone," he uttered.

"Ooh," Benu cooed through the phone. "That makes two of us, Mister R.H."

Marik rolled his eyes a second time, barely biting back a scoff as he began to pace around the closet. Fortunately it was large enough that the pacing wasn't awkward. "What is this intel, Little Benu?" he almost spat.

"Well," she began, and he could hear the mirth in her voice, "I hear that fancy boat of yours will be passing near Crete in a few days."

Marik halted. "How do you know that?"

"Oh that doesn't matter." She chuckled. "What  _does_ matter is that I know a man there who has some rare children's trading cards that I bet you'd love to get your hands on."

"And what would those be?"

"What was it again…" Benu drawled. "It started with a Z...and a ritual card was required to summon it… Ah, that's right! Zera the Mant, I believe, and Zera Ritual."

Marik was silent for a moment. The combined power of those cards may prove useful to him upon bringing his plans into fruition. "And what are you wanting in exchange for this intel?"

"If you agree to my terms, I expect to personally show you and your goon squad where to find these cards. I'll even join you in obtaining them provided you guarantee I won't have a first hand experience with your fancy disco stick." Another chuckle. "After all, the last time you sought out a children's trading card, it didn't exactly go as planned now did it?"

He audibly growled at the reminder of the vexing little bird besting him in the Louvre perhaps two months ago, when he had sought out The Winged Dragon of Ra.

"Surely that isn't everything that you are wanting?" he stated.

"Correct… I want a favour from your dear self at a time of my choosing." She paused. "Don't worry, Marik. Whatever the favour may be, I'll make sure it doesn't affect your date with Destiny."

He couldn't deny the unease that condition brought forth. "What could I possibly offer you that you can't already obtain through The Cobras?"

"You'll find out soon enough, Blondie." He could hear the smirk in her voice. "But know that it won't have any ill-effects on you or your organisation."

Marik hated the idea of owing Benu a favour, however Zera the Mant was an incredibly powerful card. One that could no doubt play a role in destroying the Pharaoh, bringing him one step closer to avenging his and his family's suffering through the years. With a resolute sigh, Marik simply said, "Deal."

"It's a date." Benu snickered through the phone. "And speaking of dates, I hear you're on your way to Italy to meet up with my employer. I couldn't help but notice he booked a table for four as you're bringing a plus one… Perhaps that girl I heard just before?"

"Don't tell me you're jealous," he sneered, briefly recalling those same words rolling off A'isha's tongue earlier this evening.

Benu scoffed. "You wish, Marik… I'm merely curious as to who would possibly be insane enough to show genuine interest in you."

"Well you said yourself that your employer booked a table for four and I'm only bringing one." Marik smirked, eyes narrowing. "So perhaps you'll find out  _personally_  come Sunday night."

"You'll just have to wait and see," Benu basically purred. "I'll text you about our rendezvous. Don't get too excited."

The line went silent and Marik knew she'd hung up on him. Two buzzes in his pocket indicated a text, which only made him glare. Of course she'd already had the text written out and ready to send. She had known from the start that he would agree to her terms. The thought only increased his frustrations at the infuriating woman that he'd had the 'pleasure' of dealing with on many occasions.

Marik almost stormed out of the closet, irked further by the simple fact that he was always sour after his encounters with Benu. Of all the people he'd come across in this line of work, none really seemed to crawl their way under his skin quite like that vexing little bird.

His lavender eyes fell on his bed. A'isha was gone. He arched a brow, wondering how she'd left the room when the door had been- Of course, he'd forgotten the lock it. His eyes narrowed as he corrected that oversight now, silently blaming Benu for forgetting. Though at the same time, he was glad A'isha had taken her leave rather than stuck around for the aftermath of the call.

A growl sounded in his throat, recollection flashing through his mind. He had planned on escorting her back to that box of a room, as A'isha so poetically put it, so he could savour her reaction to his dress selection for their dinner at the weeks end. Once both girls were in their beds, he had also planned on locking their doors. He figured he at least owed them that much after the distasteful event that had almost come to pass, thanks to that imbecile who now called the Shadow Realm home.

A sneer snaked across Marik's lips as he recalled his servant's pitiful pleas for his pathetic life, before his screams bounced off the walls as the fool slumped to the ground at his feet, soulless. He doubted his Rare Hunters would even think to disobey him in such a manner after word spread of their comrade's ill-fate. But even then, he wouldn't risk it.

Shaking his blond head slightly, gold earrings jingling, he returned to his closet to retrieve two shopping bags, one small paper bag and another larger plastic bag. Then he strode over to his sturdy, wooden desk to withdraw the Millennium Rod from the first drawer of three. An all too familiar electrifying feeling shot through him as his fingers curled around the handle, filling him with a dominating potency.

Marik paced over to his door, slipping the bags over his left wrist to unlock the door with ease, only to re-lock it behind him after sliding it shut. Slipping his keys into his pocket once more, a smirk that was never gone for too long slid onto his lips as the eye of the rod gleamed wickedly, illuminating the shadows that shrouded the corridors. He refused to acknowledge the pang of fear the darkness roused within him, serving as a painful reminder of a childhood he'd rather forget.

Through soulless hazel eyes, Marik was met by the terror that swam in another's. "In twenty five minutes, you are to instruct Little Amara to return to her quarters." Eyes that weren't his own narrowed darkly. "Do I make myself clear, slave?"

"Y-Yes, Master Marik," came Jordan's pitiful stutters.

"Good." A smirk distorted the girl's dainty features. "Do be sure to enjoy the rest of your time together, Jordan."

A moment later, Marik's lavender irises perceived the familiar corridors around him once more, a smirk distorting his own features just like his victim's. He continued to stride through the maze of hallways with purpose, while the eye of the Millennium Rod continued to gleam, casting away shadows seemingly for no other reason than to make the halls easier to navigate.

* * *

A'isha basically stumbled into her room, exhausted and slightly irked by how damn long it had taken to find the place. Whoever had constructed this boat should not have pursued a career in interior design, for they made Marik's stupid wall-switches and faux brick walls look half-way decent by comparison.

The lights were off, painting the room black, save for a few rays of moonlight that peaked through their only porthole, casting a dim glow that allowed her to identify the shapes of the minimal furniture dotted about the space. She briefly wondered if Amara was already asleep.

With a jaded sigh, A'isha's fingers trailed down the wall to her left, fumbling blindly for the familiar smooth texture of a plastic light switch. If her cousin was asleep, she'd just have to forgive her if illuminating the room woke her up.

After ten seconds that felt like that many minutes, the irritated girl was finally satisfied as she heard the soft click of a switch, only to squint her blue eyes as light seared away the shadows, near-blinding to the teen after wandering through the darkness for at least ten minutes.

A'isha took a moment to adjust to the brightness, before stepping into the room, not at all surprised to find it empty. Of course her guy-obsessed cousin was pestering that Jordan guy for as long as she possibly could. Not that he had seemed to mind in the slightest. No wonder he was a Rare Hunter… He really must've been messed up in the head if he was interested in the infuriating, immature girl she was somehow related to.

A'isha shook her head slightly in an effort to dispel those thoughts, reasoning that she'd never get to sleep if she continued to dwell on them. And it wasn't like she could do anything about them. So why worry?  _Because worrying about Amara is what I do best,_ she admitted amid her thoughts. _Even when I can't do a damn thing about it because she never listens anyway._

She buried her face into her hands, failing to will away those thoughts as she slumped onto the only bed in the room with a weary groan. The thin sheets were still crinkled from when she'd slept upon them earlier in the evening. A moment past and oddly, A'isha found herself enjoying the silence, save for the gentle, constant hum of the motor as they sliced through the sea to some unknown place. Unease returned at that last thought. Where the hell were they going? And when would they return home? ...If ever?

A'isha quickly found her feet, silently scolding herself for the bitter thoughts that served nothing to her advantage. They only made her feel worse. She sighed.  _Another thing I'm good at doing. Making myself feel worse…_ The launch jerked slightly, forcing her to quickly steady herself, unease heightening as her mind taunted her further by flashing images of the events of Titanic and Poseidon through her mind. Though she minutely wondered what was worse… Being here with Marik or meeting a tragic end at the icy hands of the merciless ocean.

 _Okay, maybe Marik's not_ that _bad_ , she reasoned, a scowl twisting her visage. _But it's still a really close call._

A'isha straightened where she stood, catching sight of something swaying softly a few metres away in the linen cabinet. A dress.

Ish cocked her head sideways, approaching the garment that had definitely not been there earlier this evening. As she stopped before the garb, a minute amount of fury made her shake as she realised it was Marik's selection for their dinner date.

Her fingers trembled slightly as they slid across the soft silk material that swayed slightly in the aftermath of the boat's lurching. She briefly admired the smooth texture as she rubbed it gently between her thumb and index finger. It was a striking orange colour, and A'isha couldn't help but notice the way it shone beneath the artificial light of the room… the ripples of light leaving the garment looking as though it was actually aflame. Much to her surprise, considering her perverted captor had chosen it, the dress wasn't at all busty, with high shoulder straps and silver studs that lined the chest portion of the dress, before sucking in below the chest, then flowing seamlessly to the marble floor. If anything it was elegant… Beautiful even. Like the dresses that had adorned her mother in the many photographs she'd seen of the stunning woman.

Sorrow slammed into the shaking girl without a sliver of mercy as a sickening memory lurched to the forefront of her mind.

_A'isha had gone back to Julie's after their eventful breakfast at which she'd gotten Dani's number. They'd spent their entire Saturday playing board games, watching movies and stuffing their faces with popcorn and candy; all while making girl talk, gossiping about Dani, friends at school, Julie's beau by the name of Aiden, new TV shows they'd watched and more._

_It was almost dark when Julie's mother took her home, where she'd basically dragged herself up the pathway and stumbled through the front door, exhausted after the long day...not to mention she and Julie had stayed up late the night before, watching cheesy romantic comedies late into the night._

_Aunt Elissa appeared in the doorway that led to the living room. "You're home late," she stated._

_Stress sparked to life within A'isha as she clicked the front door shut behind her. Could Elissa not even wait two seconds before pouncing on her? "I was at Julie's."_

" _We got home this morning and the house was a mess." Elissa's brown eyes narrowed on the girl, while her hands found her hips. "And I wasn't impressed to find my vase broken." She gestured to a side table beside the front door that had previously housed an antique vase. "You know that vase was my grandmothers!"_

_A'isha scoffed. "I didn't break it."_

" _That's not what Amara said," Elissa growled._

_The girl's hands curled into fists at her sides, knuckles quickly draining of any and all colour. She made a mental note to never make a deal with Amara again, having agreed to do her homework for a week if the girl didn't reveal that she'd shirked in her babysitting duties to go to Julie's for a sleepover. The infuriating girl was already using it to her advantage by throwing her in a catch twenty two. Take the wrap for the broken vase and avoid getting in trouble for leaving Amara and her friends home alone. Or throw them both under the bus. Boy, she was way too exhausted to be bothered with this crap tonight. "Of course that's not what Amara said!" she basically spat, storming in the direction of the stairs with the intention of seeking refuge in her room._

" _Don't walk away from me!" she heard Elissa hiss. Quick footsteps soon followed the woman's words, every step filled with purpose. "A'isha, get back here!"_

_A'isha quickened her pace. When she reached the top of the stairs, she changed her course from her bedroom to the bathroom. At least she could pull an Amara and lock herself in there, unlike her bedroom, where her aunt would just come barging in after her._

_Ish locked the bathroom door behind her just as Elissa reached for the handle. She stepped across the room, slumping down against the tiled wall as her hands found her ears, anticipating the banging that would surely come. A second later, there it was, Elissa slamming her fist hard against the door. "A'isha Renia Dahar, get your ass out of that bathroom!" she roared._

_A'isha gave a dry, sardonic sort of laugh. "Amara locks herself in here all the damn time and you just get over it and leave her alone." She scowled at the door, which shuddered slightly when her aunt slammed on it again. "Why can't you give me the same treatment?!"_

" _A'isha, if you don't unlock the damn door right this second, you'll be on kitchen cleaning duty for a week!"_

" _I already clean the kitchen every freaking night after dinner!" A'isha cried in disbelief. "Geeze, I wonder where Amara gets her denseness from. The apple mustn't fall far from the tree."_

" _I wonder where you get your ungrateful attitude from." The words that followed were laced with malice. "Was it your father? Or your mother?"_

" _Ungrateful?" A'isha spat, finding her feet as she glared knives at the door, fists trembling at her sides. "I'm your personal, unannounced nanny and housemaid and yet you have the audacity to call me ungrateful!"_

" _Audacity? Unannounced? Those are big words coming from a fourteen year old."_

" _Oh, I'm sorry. Should I dumb it down to the diction you're used to hearing from Amara?" she sneered, wishing she could hiss the words in Elissa's face and savour the reaction they brought. "Would the words of a truly ungrateful brat who couldn't speak her way out of a first grade English test be easier to wrap your head around?"_

" _You little bitch!" A'isha flinched when a louder thump made the door shake. It sounded like the woman had kicked it instead. "Ahad will be home any minute. I'll have him get his tool kit out so he can get this damn door opened and haul your ass out of there if that's what it takes."_

" _Well you'd better get the tool kit ready for him then, hadn't you?" A'isha stated in mock sweetness. "Because I am NOT coming out."_

" _You truly are ungrateful," she hissed. "We brought you into our home, we raised you, gave you a roof over your head, somewhere to sleep-"_

" _None of that changes the fact that I'll never be equal to your precious Amara." A'isha clenched her eyes shut, fighting against tears that clawed at the blue orbs without mercy. "I overheard Ahad telling one of your friends about my parents' will…. That a hefty sum of money was in it for you two, but only to help provide for me."_

" _Oh did you?" There was a short silence. "That money bought this lovely house you're now standing in." She heard Elissa chuckle. "Your dear mother Hani'ah also left her vast collection of dresses to me… and requested that I then pass them onto you come your eighteenth birthday…"_

_A'isha stiffened at the mentioning of her mother's dresses. She'd seen pictures of her mother...of the beautifully feminine and delicate dresses she'd worn. Uncle Ahad had said she collected them...and that her father had started a tradition of gifting her with a new dress with each anniversary they shared. One month… Six months… A year… Two… They hadn't just been dresses. They'd been a reflection of their relationship… of the love that they shared. A'isha had never seen Elissa wear one._

" _They were hideous of course. Too conservative and dainty. I took them to the second hand store. Wouldn't be surprised if they were still there today."_

_A'isha's whole body trembled as rage coursed through her veins, like fiery tendrils burning their way beneath her skin. She failed to notice her knuckles were now almost completely white, when Elissa's next words met her ears._

" _I much preferred the new wardrobe the money they left behind paid for."_

_A'isha froze, something snapping within her, like a twig breaking in two. Her eyes were venomous as she surrendered to the fury that enveloped every inch of her. Blind with rage, she hurled the bathroom door open, barely registering the shock ridden across her aunt's face as she swung a tan hand through the air to meet the woman's pale cheek._

" _You're a monster!" A'isha screamed, shoving the wide-eyed woman into the wall behind her. "And if it wasn't for you-" She shoved her finger hard into Elissa's chest, "they'd still be here and I'd have nothing to do with you."_

" _You- You really blame me for that," Elissa stuttered, voice anything but level as she stared back at the girl, every inch of her trembling with shock._

" _You and Ahad showed up a day early claiming you wanted to give my parents a break. You said you'd look after me while they went out for the night." A'isha's eyes narrowed on her. "But I was looking through one of your photo albums and found concert pictures… The time stamp on them was the evening my parents died, the twenty third of December." She watched the woman before her pale. "You weren't there a day early for my parents' sake. You dumped me on Ahad to babysit while you went off to that damn concert with your friends." Utter disgust burned in her eyes as she eyed the woman. "If you had missed that concert and come a day later like you were supposed to, my parents wouldn't have been on the same strip of road as that drunk driver. They would've been safe at home..." A'isha took a single step back, but Elissa stayed rooted against the wall. "Nothing you do is selfless," she breathed. "How did Ahad ever choose you?"_

_With those words, A'isha spun on her heel, rushing down the stairs and out the front door into the cool, crisp Egyptian night._

Back in the present, A'isha's fists shook ruthlessly, curled so tightly they nearly turned white, just like they had on that sickening night.

"Are you always so easily distracted?"

A'isha tensed, eyes snapping to the doorway to find it occupied by none other than Sir Jerk-A-Lot, the rod in his grasp leaving her on edge. She felt her stomach knot as he ran his thumb across the Item's raised eye twice before sliding it into a strap apparently sewn into his pants for that purpose. She sent a pointed look his way, roused memories leaving her in no mood to deal with the stupid jerk. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Does it matter?" Marik waited for a response that never came. Instead, he watched as her attention returned to the dress that hung before her. He didn't miss the almost solemn sigh that left her lips as she toyed with the fabric. And despite the dress, after her display of absence only moments ago, the blond haired boy knew it wasn't her obligation to him that was making her this way.

"It's...nice..." A'isha felt awkward the moment the words left her lips. A second later, she went rigid as familiar steps met her ears, growing louder, before ceasing as he stopped behind her, filling her with fear as he peered over her shoulder at the garb.

"Nice?" Marik repeated, amusement lining the word, before he stepped around her, stopping to face her in the small space between her and the dress. "Your face betrays you, just as it did when you caught sight of that lovely bruise during our second meeting." Before that reminder, she hadn't even noticed the slight discolouration upon his tanned cheek; the remainder of the bruise she'd kindly bestowed upon him at the end of their first meeting, after he'd implied that he'd rape Amara… back when she'd thought his blasted name was Namu. She noticed his lavender orbs examining her features, before he opened his mouth to say something.

" _Don't_  ask what I was thinking about when you first got here," she basically hissed, glaring daggers at the now smirking boy. " _Or_  what I'm thinking about now."

"Despite the reason for the dress, you certainly weren't thinking about your obligation to me at the week's end." His voice was disturbingly gentle. It definitely didn't suit him. "That dress reminds you of something else."

"Why do you think that?" A'isha spat, defensive. "Do I not look disgusted enough at the sight of it?"

Marik cocked a brow, humoured by her attempt at defiance. "You look positively miserable when you view it."

A'isha felt her defences rising around her like a mighty stone castle, complete with a shark infested moat. If there was one thing she wouldn't talk to Marik about, it was her horrible home life. After all, between the things she'd been stupid enough to share and the bits and pieces he'd found while sifting through Amara's mind, he'd already used what he had found out to his advantage by claiming he actually knew an iota about her! She stubbornly refused to admit to herself that a lot of his inferences rung true.

"Maybe I just feel miserable at the thought of having to pretend I actually care about a narcissistic nutcase like you."

Marik snorted, raising her fury another notch. "It took you that long to come up with that response?"

It took every ounce of self-control for A'isha to bite back another bitter retort as she bitterly eyed a nearby wall, knowing the witty reply he'd no doubt conjure up would only leave her feeling even more miserable. The jerk always seemed to be one step ahead of her. Something she absolutely detested, as it only left her feeling hopeless and stupid.

"No more amusing attempts at insulting me? What a shame." He chuckled softly. "I like a girl with some fire." She bristled at that comment, barely holding her tongue as she realised the reason he'd chosen the fiery orange dress that, under the right lighting, would have its wearer looking as though they  _were_  on fire. Her bitter gaze left the wall to fall on the blond as he stepped around her and over to the door. "Orange seems as though it suits you, Dear A'isha." She turned when the faint crumple of paper and plasti met her ears, reminding her of the bags that had housed their shopping.

Suspicion sparked within her… Marik saw her debating that orange top at one of the shops, and her regret at not taking it. He returned to stand before her, dropping a paper bag to her right, while still holding the plastic one. Yep, he certainly saw her pining over that top… and bought it for her.

"I'd think an obedient girl would be more your type." A'isha made sure to maintain a defiant glare as she set the bag on Amara's bed. She refused to thank him for the gift, if she could really call it that.

"Now really, Ish, where would the fun be in that?" His smirk stretched.

A'isha was silent, fully aware that he had used her nickname to irk her. She refused to react and give him the chance to savour the result of his baiting.

She watched as Marik withdrew a shoebox from the plastic bag. He lowered the box onto the bed, not all at once but as if what it contained was fragile, keeping a hand on the edge closest to him and then pulling the hand slowly from under it. In a swift turn, his fingers pushed open the lid and he quickly grasped it between his fingers and thumb. In a small flourishing movement, the box's contents were exposed. Grey flats. A'isha desperately fought the smile threatening to show.

"I do pay attention, Dear A'isha." The admission is soft, delicate, and deliberate, unlike his taunting only moments ago. "Same in all but hue from the black ones you chose while shopping."

A'isha turned away from him, defensively folding her arms as she bit back a habitual thank you, once again eyeing the nearest faux brick wall. The same wall Amara's bed was pressed against.

"You're welcome," Marik stated, the same mirthless lilt in his voice, amused by her stubborn nature. She heard soft steps, then the scraping of a coat hanger, then more steps, before the crumpling of what she assumed to be the paper bag. He entered her line of sight a second later, popping the orange shirt upon the pillow of the bed. Her glare hardened as her stare averted to the wall in the opposite direction, fully aware of how childish she was being… but it was better than looking at the jerk.

A deep sigh met her ears. "An hour ago you were willingly alone with me in my bedroom. Now you're refusing to speak to me." He chuckled. "Whatever's bothering you must really be taking its toll."

A'isha scoffed, but maintained her glare at the wall. "Like you would've let me just go back to my room!"

"I did ask rather than command, didn't I?" The words came gently, rather than matter-of-factly. It only worsened her unease.

"You told me I lacked tact!" she cried, finally sending a sour look his way to find a half smirk directed back at her.

"I simply brought to light the many benefits of saying yes."

A'isha snorted bitterly. "And funnily enough, I find you  _less_  tolerable now than I did before the movie!"

"No doubt due to the feelings provoked by whatever you were thinking about before." He paused, smirk gone as pensiveness shaped his features. "You were thinking about your mother, weren't you?"

Fierce cerulean eyes narrowed on him in an instant, bolting quickly to the artefact with the nerving eye on the right side of his belt.  _There's no way he could've known that unless…_  "You used the Millennium Rod on me!"

"I didn't… Amara has seen your parents' photo albums. She admires the dresses your mother wore almost as much as you do."

A'isha closed the distance between them, not even caring about walls or pride or anything at this point. "How do you possibly expect me to believe you?" she snapped, angrily prodding his chest with her index finger.

"I don't." His smirk returned. "My darling Ish, I fear we'll never work if you can't even trust your dear fiancé."

A'isha scoffed, a roll of her eyes accompanying the action. "I don't even trust you as far as I can throw you!"

"That's where the acting and the tact comes in."

An audible growl rumbled in her throat. "Y'know I may be in no mood to placate you right now," she hissed, "but you're also being more of an ass than usual, aside from our first...and...second meeting." She hesitated as Marik raised an amused brow at the latter of her words. "You know what I mean! You weren't as much of a nutcase after sending that creep 'to the shadows'." The last three words were announced with air quotes. "If we're acting like we know each other, then is the reason you're being Sir Jerk-A-Lot 2.0 right now because of that lovely call you had with that Benu woman?"

"I don't need your pity."

 _Well that answers that question..._  "I'm simply bringing to light a rather obvious observation." She revealed a mocking smile. "Sound familiar?"

"If it was quite apparent then was it truly brought to light?" he countered. "Or merely wasting your breath on stating the obvious?"

She rolled her eyes. "I waste my breath whenever I speak to you."

"I wouldn't call it a waste." Vanilla wafted into her nose. Pleasant, soft, soothing. Oh the irony. She fought down bile as the scent immediately soured. "If you recall, I learn a great deal by merely observing you, and letting you talk as long as you please, and taking note of what you do not say, and there is quite a bit that you do not say, Dear A'isha."

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?!" A'isha pushed the words past her teeth. She shoved against him hard and didn't think twice as she made headway towards the door. She almost gave him a penultimate push out the door, when she hit a wall. A warm, clothed wall.

"Whatever angers you controls you." He sneered down at her.

"You  _don't_ control me." She pushed with all of her might, he still held unnervingly steady.

"Oh I believe I do, Dear A'isha." He swiftly grabbed her wrists and pinned them to her sides. He shoved her towards the bed, pushing her onto it, and whispered, "That's called acting, Little A'isha." Marik leaned in on the bed. "You believed you were actually overpowering me..." He laughed and inched closer to her face, relishing the terror in her eyes. "Come Sunday, I expect you to have our company believing that you're madly in love with me."

"Get out of my face." Her fists clenched, stomach flipping with fear as he merely continued to wear that stupid smirk. He shifted his weight so that he was able to restrain her with his left forearm, elbow immobilizing her dominant right side and his hand grasped around her left forearm. His breaths were calm and deep as his right hand brushed the hair from her face. The silence was painful as that same hand sought out something she couldn't see. And didn't need to. She knew what it was, causing her fear to up another notch as her breathing became unsteady. Oh Ra, what if he used the rod on her to… She shuddered, refusing to think about  _that_ and yet it was all that occupied her thoughts as Mr High and Mighty loomed over her.

Marik continued to smirk as he raised the rod to eye level. Her expression of sheer terror reflected upon its gold surface, leaving A'isha humiliated. She froze as the regrettably familiar texture of the cool, metallic wing lightly slid up her jawline, over her ear, before he slowly, tauntingly swept it through her hair. The sick jerk!

"Stop." Her humiliation heightened, for the single word had held far less authority and far more fear than she'd hoped for.

His lips inched closer. "Why should I?" he whispered, hot breath fanning across her face evoking another shudder.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she desperately willed fury to overrun dread. "I. Said.  _Stop_."

Vehemently, she yanked her arms against his grasp and, much to her surprise and relief, Marik released her wrists. He used his knee to lift himself off of the bed, slipping the rod into the strap on his plain, black pajama pants as he straightened. He watched his company, who was now sitting upright on the bed with her feet firmly plastered on the floor, gingerly rubbing her arms while maintaining a glare of distaste in his presence.

For a long moment, the room was silent, save for the soft hum of the boat's motor. "I know why you did that," she murmured, shockingly without bitterness. She looked up at her captor. "You're a control freak." She sighed softly. "Benu's call left you feeling as though you had none. Something you're not used to." Her brows furrowed, confusion clear upon her face. "Why don't you use the rod on her?"

Marik snorted. "That's a heavy assumption to make with a lack of facts to back up the claim."

She chose to not press the question regarding Benu and the rod that he seemed to be avoiding. He'd probably just get stroppy if she tried. Instead, she retorted with, "I like to think that there's always a reason for people's actions."

The slightest smirk curved his lips. "Such as your fear only moments ago?"

"You're an asshole."

"Oh really?" He chuckled. "Why were you so afraid when I've stated so many times that I'd never-"

"Rape me?" she basically spat. "You just had me pinned against the bed! When you go and pull something like that, how can I possibly believe that the only rod you plan on pulling out is that Ra damned golden stick of yours?!"

He laughed. "You think very highly of your looks."

"You told me yesterday you thought I was attractive!"  _Much to my distaste,_  she added in her head.

"Girl, how many times do I need to remind you of the circumstance that brought about our little act at the end of this week?"

"Girl? Dear A'isha?" she spat, flailing her arms for emphasis. "My name is  _just_  A'isha. Why don't you actually use it for once?"

"I thought you guys were pretending to be engaged," a fresh, yet familiar voice spoke up, "not married."

The nerving smirk Marik wore told her he'd been expecting her cousin to grace them with her oh so lovely presence. She briefly wondered how Amara would've reacted had she walked in only a minute earlier, when Marik had pinned her on the bed. On the one hand, the girl may have freaked out, believing  _both_  parties to be  _willingly_ partaking in the action; but on the other hand, she may have…  _just_   _maybe_  … realised what was up and, by extension, exactly how twisted Marik really was. She found herself somewhat doubting her second theory.

A sour scowl was set firmly upon A'isha's face as she peered around Marik to find Amara standing in the doorway, rubbing her right eye in clear exhaustion.

Marik spun on his heel to face the younger girl. "We were just enjoying some more playful banter," he stated, a sly edge to his tone as he glanced over his shoulder at Ish, no doubt hoping for a reaction. She refused to give him one. Her mood soured further as she realised she'd been giving him several reactions all evening. Groaning, A'isha mentally scolded herself for letting her hot headedness get the best of her. But that damn psycho nutcase just had a way of bringing forth that rather unflattering side of her!

"Actually," A'isha began in forced calmness, slowly grinding her teeth, "Marik was just waiting for you. He wanted to lock our door to avoid any more seedy Rare Hunters from trying to… well…" Her eyes were on her cousin, meaning she'd missed the surprised expression he now wore at her words, considering that actually had been one of his reasons for being there; the second being to see her reaction to his dress selection.

"Oh." Amara blinked twice, the hand that had rubbed her eye now falling to her side. She showed a sleepy smile. "That's very considerate of you, Marik." Surprisingly, no flirty edge was etched into the girl's words, though A'isha still had to roll her eyes at the irony of that sentence… Marik? Considerate? That was the joke of the century. Ish was yanked from that thought as Amara lumbered into the room. "Don't let me stop you from doing your thing then."

A'isha watched as Amara gave a long, sizeable yawn, clearly exhausted after such a long night. After all, Ish had napped earlier that evening...and had briefly fallen asleep in Marik's room, much to her distaste. Amara, however, had not slept since the evening prior. Though Ish had also put up with Marik for most of her evening, and dealing with him was mentally draining to the point that her nap probably hadn't helped much. His mere presence had thrown her wits about her, lashing away at her weary mind's desperate calls for sleep. So that surely trumped Mar's late night.

The crumpling of paper seized her attention. Marik had scooped up off the floor the shopping bag that had formerly housed the orange top he'd bought for her. It was then that she realised the dress was no longer hanging in the linen cupboard. He must've swapped the shirt out for the dress back when she'd been glaring at the wall earlier. He had opted to leave the shoebox at the end of the bed. Perhaps he was just worried she'd try to ruin the dress out of spite. Now that she thought about it, the thought was tempting.

A'isha was shocked furthermore when Marik silently stepped over to and then out their bedroom door, the vexing smirk now gone from his face and no parting quip as he quietly pulled the door shut behind him. She guessed the reason was her refusing to react to his 'playful banter' jab. She didn't hide her relief as she heard the lock click into place.

It was Amara's turn to astonish her. Her feet dragged along the ground, each step heavier than the last, before she slumped down onto the mattress on the floor of the linen cupboard with an abrupt "oof!"

A'isha cocked her head curiously. "You're not taking the bed?"

"You're on it," Amara returned, voice muffled by the mattress she'd buried her face into.

"Since when has something like that stopped you?"

"Call it a nice gesture. You look like you need a good night's sleep more than I do."

A'isha blinked twice as the initial shock of her cousin's foreignly kind gesture sunk in. She eyed the exhausted girl, mulling over whether to feel thought of or offended.  _If she thinks that I need the bed more than she does, I must look absolutely terrible._  "Do I  _really_  look that bad?"

"Go look in the bathroom mirror and find out."

With a huff, A'isha flopped back onto the bed she sat upon, fighting hard to dismiss the embarrassment that clawed at her brain. If Mar had been observant enough to realise how horrible she looked right now, Marik must've thought she looked like the seventh circle of hell brought to life. She huffed. But why should she care what Marik thought of her, particularly her looks? Wasn't it safer to look her worst when on a boat full of seedy crooks?  _Dani's attracted to me,_ A'isha silently surmised, straightening to a sitting position upon the bed. _That's all that matters._

"So what were you and Marik arguing about?" came Amara's muffled voice. "You two spent a lot of time together this evening. What do you even talk about with someone like  _that_?"

Confusion shaped A'isha's features as she stared down at her cousin. The girl was still face down on the mattress, her straight, jet black locks scattered around her. "Someone like what?"

"A psychopath."

Her blue eyes bulged. "Hold on. You…" She blinked, though the amazement in her eyes remained. "You actually realise how  _crazy_  he is?"

Amara looked at her then, seemingly offended by her older cousin's shock. "I may be blonde on the inside, but I'm not  _that_  blonde. Why do you think I let you have the front seat when we went shopping today? Well-" Ish caught the girl glance at the darkness beyond the porthole in the wall behind Ish. " _yesterday_  now."

"I thought that was Marik's doing," she breathed, realisation flashing through her blue orbs.

"That was  _my_  doing," Amara stated matter-of-factly. "I didn't wanna sit in the front seat beside him. He may be a solid ten. Maybe even an eleven. But the guy still majorly gives me the creeps."

A'isha blinked. "So that's why you've sometimes been acting nervous around him, like when he got angry about the ridiculous pile of clothes you chose? And at other times you sucked up to him, like when I pointed out that he could've helped carry your shopping and you defended him?"

"Bingo."

A'isha's gaze dropped to her lap, where she awkwardly twiddled her thumbs as guilt wriggled its way into her mind. She heard ruffling. A few seconds later, she looked up to find Amara's face buried into the crumpled up sheet she'd used as a pillow the previous night.

With a shaky sigh, she slowly found her feet. Turning to face the bed, more than ready to succumb to sleep and forget the craziness that was her life right now, she set the shoebox on the floor, then grabbed the orange shirt Marik had left on the pillow. She arched a brow when she felt something hard within the silky material, and she soon fished out an unopened pack of ear plugs the same shade as her skin. A'isha fought the amused smile that tried to pry her lips apart as she glanced at her cousin.

Her expression soured as she re-wrapped the unopened packaging back into the shirt and dumped it on the shoebox.  _He's still the most self-centred jerk on the planet,_ she told herself, glaring at nothing in particular as she stepped across the room to switch off the light, allowing the glow of the moon to softly seep through the porthole and into their room. Perceiving the faint outline of the bed that was hers tonight, she slowly wandered through the darkness with outstretched arms, stopping as her legs hit the bed.

With a weary sigh, A'isha inched beneath the sheets. She was too tired to brush her teeth, not to mention she was sure that seeing her reflection right now in the bathroom mirror would only make her feel worse. She also silently thanked herself for buying baggy clothes that doubled as pyjamas, as she didn't need to bother getting changed.

The slightly shivering girl rolled around in the bed, eventually finding herself comfortable on her side as the sheets grew warm thanks to her body heat. Her back was to Amara as she eyed the wall in her direct line of sight, her sight adjusting to the lack of light as she mulled over her cousin's words for a minute or two. Then a guilty sigh slid past her lips.

"I'm sorry, Mar," she breathed.

"For what?"

Another minute passed by.

"For not giving you enough credit."

More silence. Then…

"Ish?" The address came meekly. It made A'isha nervous.

"Yeah?" she whispered slowly.

"What did you mean when you said you thought me taking the back seat was Marik's doing?"

A'isha inhaled sharply, minutely horrified by her lack of tact. Who knows how Amara would react to finding out Marik had been using her as his little mind puppet? She already thought he was a psychotic creep as it is!

"I...don't know what to tell you, Mar," she murmured, her voice cracking as tears suddenly clawed at her vision.  _How the heck do you tell someone that thanks to a ruthless madman, their mind has been invaded…violated…manipulated against their will and without their knowledge?_

"It has something to do with my black outs," Amara's shaky voice floated through the darkness. "Doesn't it?"

"Yes…" A'isha inhaled deeply, silently preparing herself for whatever reaction Amara would give at her next words. "That artefact Marik has, he can control minds with it and-"

"He controlled mine, didn't he?"

A'isha could feel her heart breaking as a strained sob echoed through the room.

"Yes..."

Another sob.

She couldn't stand this. With a resolute sigh, she twisted in the sheets to face her crying company. "Come here, Mar. We'll trade places. You need a good nights sleep more than I do."

She heard shuffling and could make out the faint outline of her cousin's petite frame as she sat up on the mattress. The faint glow of light from the tiny window revealed the frightened expression upon the girl's face as she looked up at A'isha with an innocence the older girl hadn't seen in years.

"Can I… Can I just join you?"

A tear snake across A'isha's skin, before the pillow greedily absorbed the liquid. "Of course you can."

A'isha shuffled over in the bed, making room as Amara's silhouette fumbled through the darkness. She heard the pat of a blindly searching hand upon the bed, before being greeted by the warmth of another as the girl slipped into the bed beside her.

Lying on her side, A'isha lightly gasped as Amara buried her tear-stained face into her chest, before another wave of sobs shook the poor girl. "Ish… I don't say this as often as I should." She felt Amara take a shaky breath in an attempt to calm her nerves. "But you're the best cousin I could ever ask for…. and I love you for it."

A small smile slid across her lips, though unseen by her company. "I love you too, Mar."


	14. Chapter 13: Of Coffee And Sleep-Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just a quick disclaimer, we don't own "Milkshake" by Kelis or "Beautiful Disaster" by Kelly Clarkson; the latter is definitely a super awesome and fitting song for a Marik x OC pairing though. We recommend listening to it (the original and the live version) if you haven't already. It's absolutely beautiful! Anyway, on with the fic! As always, please enjoy the reading! :D

**Chapter Thirteen: Of Coffee And Sleep-Talk**

Vibrant red and orange hues set the sky ablaze, as rays of yellow peaked over the horizon, casting a scattered glow across the smooth surface of the sea. The last sliver of shadows danced across the ocean, dying it an off purple tint.

Marik paid the soothing sight no mind as he silently scanned the photographs that lined his mahogany desk, depicting an assortment of replica antiques. The images would be vital come dinner on Sunday evening, aiding in solidifying his and his dear fiancée's ruse before The Cobras' infamous leader, Salim Phoenix.

He'd never met the man, having always dealt with the renowned organisation's second-in-command, Lady Benu. That being said, he'd certainly heard rumours that Salim was merciless, unyielding and easily angered under certain circumstances. Not to mention Benu had once said he should count his lucky stars he's only had the pleasure of dealing with her and her team. Something told Marik that, for once, she hadn't been exaggerating.

Four recognisable knocks echoed about the room, prompting Marik to straighten a little in his ebony office chair. "Enter, Odion," he announced, sparing a one eyed glance over his shoulder at the door behind him. He perceived the soft jingle of keys, followed by the click of the lock, before the door slid open to reveal his servant.

"Master Marik," the older man murmured with a respectful bow, then took two steps into the room, easing the door shut behind him.

Marik's attention returned to the photographs. He slowly gathered them into a small pile. "What is it, Odion?"

"I was just on my way to the kitchen to prepare pancakes for breakfast, Sir." His voice was as deep and calm as always.

The younger man grunted.

At that all too familiar response, Odion continued, "Blueberry or chocolate chip?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

"Chocolate chip it is." Odion seemed to hesitate with his next words. "Should I expect Miss A'isha and Miss Amara to be joining us for breakfast, Sir?"

As Marik absently toyed with the pile of photographs in his grasp, his mind wandered, imagining the look of utter fury upon his dear captives' face as he ripped their bed sheets from them. He smirked. "But of course." He eagerly anticipated the lovely wake up call he now had to make on his way to the kitchen.

"Very well, Sir." A nod accompanied the words, before silence enveloped the room.

Marik arched a curious brow, having expected the sound of retreating footfalls. A sigh slid past his lips as he spun on his chair to completely face his company, immediately catching the concern that weighed down the dark-skinned man's features. "There's another reason you're here."

It was Odion's turn to sigh. "You didn't sleep last night, did you?"

"That vexing little bird called," he spat, fighting hard against the urge to sourly crush the photos in his grasp.

"I see," Odion quietly said, needing no further explanation. And yet Marik knew the elder man was rather dismayed by his terrible sleeping habits, for he didn't bother to sleep much even on nights that Benu hadn't riled him up. Which thankfully, was more often than not. Odion's eyes sunk to the carpet. "There's something else, Sir."

An audible growl itched Marik's throat. "Yes?"

"How long do you plan on keeping them here?"

Marik's visage was like stone as he traced a tanned thumb over the first photo on the stack in his hand. "As long as it takes to avenge the Ishtar clan and obtain what is rightfully mine."

There was a brief silence; then,"Very well, Master Marik."

Marik identified the slight sympathy that shook the man's voice. His servant obviously found his answer distasteful at best, but Marik didn't bother to comment on that small fact. After all, regardless of Odion's thoughts on him kidnapping Dear A'isha and her pathetic cousin, Marik knew his adoptive brother would always remain loyal to him.

With that, Odion silently slipped out of the room. The teen heard the lock of the door behind him, before soft strides faded along the corridor, seeming somewhat loud against the still silence morning had brought forth.

With a heavy yawn, Marik slid the first drawer on his right open, set the photos inside it, then rolled it shut with a dull  _thud_. He proceeded to find his feet, while his mind wrestled with his weary body over his need for sleep. He huffed softly, striding across his room to his bathroom door, in need of a cool shower. After all, lack of sleep was nothing a black coffee and an ice cold shower couldn't fix.

Another smirk inched across his lips, anticipation bubbling within him at the thought of waking up Dear A'isha and Little Amara, and the oh so entertaining reactions that would no doubt result from it all. Particularly when they found out he was only stealing them from sleeps soothing embrace to join him for breakfast.

Marik stepped into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, before seeking out a towel from a cupboard beneath the nearby basin.

Really, there were worse things than being dragged out of bed after a terrible sleep only to be given pancakes for breakfast. Though in thinking that, he  _did_  have a sweet tooth so his opinion was perhaps a little biased; but oddly, he hated sugar in his coffee.

Marik halted in his action, crisp white towel in his grasp, as recognition swam within his icy, amethyst irises. He'd met his vexing little captive's boyfriend before.

_The cafe was warm and inviting, as always. As he strode up to the counter, he observed as one of the other staff nudged a blond who was far too cheery for this early hour- the nudger had served him on his prior visit and perhaps was quite subtly encouraging the new face to take on the task. The place was empty, the early hours between the opening and just before 10 AM were the best if peace and solitude was so desired on a Saturday._

_Marik stopped at the counter, wallet already in hand. The keys to his motorbike were in the other. The perky blond offered a cheerful smile. "What can I sta-?"_

" _Coffee. Black. Takeaway." He noted the waiter's nametag read "Dani" in all capital letters. Poor fool must have drawn the short stick on scheduling. Or perhaps not, seeing as there was still an out of place grin plastered to the waiter's face._

" _Sure thing." Dani still wore that same grin that no one in their right mind would wear at this hour. After glancing at a staff member further along the counter, partially hidden behind a large coffee machine, Dani turned back to Marik. "My colleague's just refilling the machine with coffee beans. Will the wait be o-"_

" _Yes." He hated waiting, but he hated no coffee in the morning even more._

" _Alrighty," Dani returned, his bubbly grin refusing to waver in the slightest as he typed away on the cash register. "Eighteen pounds." His candid tone and blunt speech suddenly matched his customer's, despite his tone of voice remaining the same. It seemed the boy was swiftly learning of how Marik operated. Any service should be prompt and with minimal chit chat, unless the latter would serve something to his advantage. He earned a little more credit for that._

_Marik quickly paid by card, tucking away his wallet soon after. His arms crossed over his chest as he stepped to the side to wait._

" _Nice ride by the way," Dani spoke up after half a minute, eyeing the crimson red motorcycle parked right outside. The boy must have seen him arrive. It wasn't exactly a subtle mode of transport, so that didn't surprise him._

_Marik frowned then. This was unnecessary chit chat. The boy's credit was gone._

" _Yes. It is," he said, glaring out the window._

" _My girlfriend would blow a gasket if I ever got one."_

_Marik arched a brow. Was he really being ignorantly open enough to talk about his love life with a total stranger? He refused to admit hearing about this fool's romantic relationship intrigued him somewhat, stirring curiosity driven questions to the forefront of his mind. He blamed puberty. It's not like obtaining a girlfriend was high on his list of priorities._

_The hum of the coffee machine was distant to his ears. "Why?" he finally asked the boy behind the counter._

" _Why would she blow a gasket?" Dani laughed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "She thinks they're a death trap. That a car could easily not see me, hit me and kill me." He smirked then. "That or she thinks I'll do wheelies everywhere I go and thinks that's stupid."_

_Marik shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with wheelies." A sneer slid onto his lips. "Why not simply get a new girlfriend along with a motorbike?"_

_Second long confusion sliced through Dani's sky blue orbs. Marik figured the boy was trying to figure out if his suggestion was a joke. It wasn't._

_It was Dani's turn to shrug. "I want her way more than a motorbike." He revealed a gentle smile. "Plus I like to think that her pedantic demand that I never get one boils down to the fact she's afraid to lose me." His smile stretched. "Everyone tells her she cares too much."_

_Marik barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Perhaps she does?"_

" _Perhaps." Dani's smile remained as he took a step to the left, allowing his colleague to hand Marik his freshly brewed order. "But I like to think she cares just the right amount, and it's one of my favourite things about her."_

" _How sweet." Frustratingly, the two words had come far less snidely than Marik had intended. His frown returned at that realisation as he stepped out of the establishment, his keys jingling as he slid his drink into a singular metal cup holder on his bike. He threw his right leg over the vehicle, sought out his helmet from the handlebar and fastened it into place._

_Marik spared a glance through the cafe window to be met by a small smile and a wave. He refused to return the gesture. Instead, he twisted a key in the ignition. The beastly roar of the engine was like music to his ears, only evoking a smirk as he sped through the fairly empty car park._

I'll show the fool a wheelie, _he thought, before doing just that, holding the trick through the entire length of the parking lot. He didn't miss the entertained grin upon Dani's face, before he took a right and zoom_ _ed_ _off along a busy Alexandria street. Unfortunately, he didn't realise until he was halfway to the docks that his coffee had slipped from the cup holder back in the parking lot._

_Which is why, twenty minutes later, Marik's frown was more deep set than ever as he re-entered the cafe. He was instantly greeted by an enthusiastic grin._

" _Hey!" Dani chimed. "I was hoping you'd come back."_

_Marik's frown curved even further. Stubbornness willed away his embarrassment as he stopped at the counter. Deja vu._

" _I saw the coffee fly out of your cup holder." Dani laughed sheepishly, handing him a freshly brewed black coffee in another takeaway cup. The boy must've seen him park outside once again. Marik had to hand it to this Dani, he was observant: a very useful trait. "But you'd sped off before I could say anything."_

_Marik merely grunted as he accepted the drink, setting it down on the counter so he could withdraw cash from his wallet this time around, rather than a card._

_Dani waved his hands incessantly. "Nonono. That drink's on me."_

_Marik had to arch a brow at this. Why was this fool being so amicable? And to a stranger no less? "No," he bluntly said. "I insist on paying."_

" _That awesome wheelie was payment enough!" the boy reasoned. "Kinda makes me wanna get a bike even more."_

_The Egyptian boy snorted."Well good luck telling the girlfriend that."_

_Dani feigned a look of terror. "On second thought, maybe I'll stick to my plain old white sedan." His smile soon returned. "Anyway, don't spill that one," he teased, gesturing to the mug Marik now held in his right hand._

_Marik flashed the closest thing to a genuine smile. It had been a while. "I'll try not to, Dani."_

_Dani opened his mouth to speak, before a woman's voice called out his name from out back. "Oh, that's the manager. I'd better go." He stepped towards the kitchen door. "But seriously, enjoy the coffee this time!"_

_With that, Dani gave a brief wave before dashing out back. Marik, on the other hand,_ _scanned the counter with lavender irises. The remnants of his smile remained as he_ _slipped eighteen pounds into_ _a nearby tip jar, before striding towards the exit for the second time in an hour._

With amusement etched through his eyes, Marik couldn't bite back a laugh at the irony of that morning.

 _Little did the fool know that later that day, his dearest girlfriend would encounter the very Rare Hunter who idiotically let my name slip in her presence._ His laughter subsided as he flicked on the shower, though a smirk remained as he recalled Dani's appearance.  _I'd say it's safe to assume Dear A'isha's type is tall, dark and handsome, even if the stubborn girl refuses to show it._ His smirk only grew. _Oh I'm sure I could have some fun with this..._

* * *

The soft hum of a motor combined with the not so soft snores of the girl beside her coaxed A'isha from a distant dream. She inhaled deeply, then sluggishly stirred as sleep's hazy hold loosened on her weary mind. A shiver soon shook her body, willing her to slowly pry her eyes apart. She winced at the unwelcomed light that burned her blue orbs. Admittedly, the light was dim, but it was still too bright after what must've only been a few hours of sleep. It was still early; she could tell that much by the fiery, yet somehow soothing reds and oranges that glowed beyond the nearby porthole.

Eyes watering slightly, they trailed to her company. She instantly realised the reason she was awake at such an ungodly hour. Her cousin had hogged all of the sheets in her sleep, having curled up with her back to Ish, pulling the sheets along for the ride. A'isha sighed, gripping the edge of the sheet that was closest to her and pulling hard. It didn't budge.

Groaning softly in self-pity, she somewhat gently nudged her cousin's shoulder. "Mar?" she whispered, sighing when the girl's only response was to snore louder. "Typical," A'isha muttered, trying and failing to yank the sheets once more, before slumping against her pillow with folded arms. Amara seemed to be completely out of it, and as exhausted as A'isha was, she couldn't bear to try any harder to rip her cousin from what must've been a very deep sleep. It was the least she could do after the younger girl had discovered Mr High and Mighty had been sifting through her mind without so much as a second thought.

Perhaps a minute passed as A'isha merely glared at the ceiling, before nature called. A bitter huff hissed through her lips as she threw her legs over the side of the bed, groggily finding her feet as she headed for the bathroom, silently hoping that the sound of the wall sliding aside thanks to Marik's damn wall-switches might just be enough to wake Amara up. That way, A'isha wouldn't feel quite so bad about ripping Mar from the blissful ignorance that sleep offered. She could just blame Marik...not that  _that_ was a hard thing to do.

A few minutes later, A'isha returned to their shoe box of a room. Hearing the mechanical hum of the wall sliding shut behind her, a faint click soon confirmed that it had closed completely. She glanced at the bed, relieved to find its occupant staring back at her through half-lidded hazel eyes.

"Hey..." She made sure to use her morning voice on her weary cousin.

"Mmmmnn... Morning," Mar mumbled in return, rubbing her eyes, yawning and stretching all at once.

A'isha mirrored her yawn as she stepped over to the bed. "Can I take my half of the sheets back?" she quietly asked, lying beside Amara on the soft mattress that was still slightly warm from when she'd occupied it minutes ago.

"Sorry." Amara allowed Ish to pull some sheets over herself, all while she shuffled around in the bed, making herself comfortable once again. A'isha was pleased to find Mar's body heat had warmed up the soft, smooth material.

Only half a minute later, the soft snores returned. "Out like a light," A'isha murmured softly to herself, a small smile gracing her lips as her attention turned to the striking sunrise beyond their tiny window. Her smile faltered with her next words, which dripped with sarcasm. "And another day in paradise."

Cerulean eyes snapped wide then, remembrance flashing through their depths as she realised what day it was today. Monday the seventeenth of December. Feelings of fury, frustration and a fraction of guilt melded into one within her pained mind as it wandered three days into the past, to the evening before she'd first met Sir Jerk-A-Lot.

_'He drowns in his dreams_  
An exquisite extreme I know  
He's as damned as he seems  
_And more heaven than a heart could hold'_

_The mesmerizing voice of Kelly Clarkson's "Beautiful Disaster" floated through A'isha's laptop speakers, as she half-mindedly sung along to the tune that was somehow both warming and woeful. The soft tap of a keyboard mingled with the melody as the teen girl slowly but surely tackled her essay on the romantic comedy that is Shakespeare in Love._

_'And if I try to save him_  
_My whole world could cave in_  
_It just ain't right  
_ _It just ain't right'_

_A'isha readjusted her posture beneath the sheets, silently wondering how she had slid down the bed into such a slumped over position. She shuffled her rear up the bed, tweaking the stack of pillows she had propped behind her to support her back while she worked. A deep sigh slid past her lips as she rolled her shoulders, hoping to ease the stiffness that her literal slump had caused. She pulled her laptop closer, comfortable once more as she continued her essay. Until the blare of an all too catchy ringtone made her straighten slightly._

_'My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard_  
_And they're like_  
_It's better than yours  
_ _Damn right, it's better than yours'_

_A wide grin graced her lips, a roll of her eyes accompanying the action. She knew exactly who was calling. The silly girl had somehow managed to get a hold of her phone to assign the catchy ringtone to herself, and A'isha had opted to keep it for the laughs. She reached for the sapphire blue flip phone that vibrated softly on her end table, slowly creeping closer to the edge. Grin never wavering, she flipped the device open and clicked a button with a green phone icon on it._

" _Yeah? Whataya want, wench?" she teased, switching on speaker phone and lazily holding the device in her sheet-covered lap._

" _Oh my gosh, Ishy Poo," a scoff hissed through the phone, putting on a sassy tone of voice. "You're such a_ bitch _!"_

_A'isha snickered. "Y'know, Julie, I might've just taken you seriously if you hadn't called me Ishy Poo."_

" _Really?" her best friend laughed."I thought my mean girl impression was totes on point."_

" _It was a disappointing attempt, Jules," Ish teased. "Totally unacceptable. You really need to brush up on your acting skills."_

" _Well you're the Queen Bee of Performing Arts. You'll have to show me a few pointers."_

" _Maybe you'll be lucky enough to see my amazing acting skills at your birthday dinner on Monday night."_

" _So you're_ definitely _coming?" Julie asked, hope lining her words._

_A'isha wore a mock thoughtful look, even though her friend couldn't see it. "Actually, I just realised-" She paused to smirk, "-I'm actually out of the country on Monday."_

" _Well it's funny you should mention being out of the country," her friend drawled, clearly suppressing excitement. "Because my parents told me what my birthday present is already!" She squealed through the line, reminding A'isha of her way too energetic cousin. "Guess what it is!"_

_Ish's smirk vanished as she arched a curious brow. "What is it?"_

" _A family trip to Italy!" she shrieked, losing any and all poise as her sheer joy poured through the phone._

" _No way! That's freaking amazi… I-I mean," Her smirk returned, "That happens to be where I'm heading on Monday… To Italy." She chuckled quietly to herself. "Yeah, so can we please reschedule your dinner?"_

" _Oh, very funny!" Julie groaned sarcastically. "But seriously, laziest caregivers on the planet aren't making you babysit, right?"_

" _Hey!" A'isha stated firmly, a gentle smile now curving her lips. "No one could stop me from going to my bestie's sixteenth birthday dinner!"_

" _Damn right!" the younger girl fervently announced. "Or they'll have to answer to_ me _!"_

" _And I wouldn't wish that upon anyone," A'isha added with a light giggle. She perked up on her bed when a familiar series of knocks echoed up the stairs beyond her bedroom door. "Oh, Dani's here, so I'd better go..." she stated, using her free hand to slide her laptop to the end of the bed so she could throw the sheets off of her frame and slip out of bed._

" _Oh! Dani-kins!" Julie basically sung. "Tell him his favourite sister-in-law says hi!"_

_A'isha snorted, though really she was amused by her best friend's never-ending enthusiasm. "I'll be sure to tell him," she played along, on a mission as she opened her bedroom door and headed along the hallway._

" _Good girl," she jested while Ish imagined her poking out her tongue. "So I'll see ya at school_ and  _at my dinner on Monday, you sexy beast?"_

" _Yes ma'am! See ya Monday, honey bunch!" she returned with yet another snicker, then ended the call as she swept down the stairs to the front door. Grinning with anticipation, she slipped her phone into her left bra cup, before opening the front door to reveal striking sky blue eyes and a charming smile._

" _Oh." A'isha scrunched up her nose in mock disgust. "It's just you."_

_Dani blinked twice, before fake realisation flashed in his eyes. "Oh man! I totally forgot!" His tanned hand slapped his forehead. "Tonight's the night you're meant to be seeing your other boyfriend, right? Shemar Moore?" He huffed. "That bastard."_

" _Well," A'isha drawled, placing a thoughtful finger to her lips, "I suppose I can cancel on Shemar and deal with your blond mug instead."_

" _Blond mug?" he shrieked, then scoffed dramatically. "I'll have you know I shaved today just for you." His sassy tone easily put Julie's to shame. "Because you just love to remind me that my stubble itches your face when we kiss!"_

" _Well it does!" A'isha cried, though the grin setting her face aglow proved she was anything but frustrated at the teen boy before her. "You're sixteen and already your hairiness puts bigfoot to shame! To be honest, I'm kinda worried..." With her next words, her tone turned slightly suggestive. "Besides, you look so much more handsome when you're clean shaven. It really makes me wanna make out with you that much more."_

_Dani flashed a sly smirk her way that left her melting where she stood. Ugh, why was his smirk so damn sexy? She watched, grin still set upon her face as he stepped off the patio and through the front door, dropping a plastic bag by the doorway before closing any and all distance between them. His smirk grew as his hands snaked around her waist. He leaned in so close his lips were grazing her ear. "My my, Miss Mute," he huskily breathed, and it took everything in her to not pull him in for a fiery kiss right then and there. "Shouldn't we at least be behind closed doors before you start talking so suggestively?"_

_A'isha's grin turned provocative as she wordlessly shut the front door. After all, he hadn't specified which closed door they needed to be behind._

_Dani laughed. "Cute. Real cute."_

" _I try," she countered with a sweet smile. Her blue irises dropped to the plastic bag he'd set down beside the door. She wasn't surprised by its contents; some DVDs, a board game and some junk food. "Shall we head upstairs?" A'isha whispered._

" _And behind a closed door that's a little more private?"_

_She smirked. "Save that for later tonight, Big Boy." He knew she was joking when using that dodgy pet name. She'd never use it seriously._

_A'isha broke away from Dani, only to feel a hand around her wrist a second later, before finding herself against his toned chest, which was sadly covered by a loose fitting shirt that read "Generic Band Shirt" in striking white font with a black and red background._

_Dani's eyes flashed playfully. "You don't think I'm gonna let you mosey on up those stairs without giving me a hello kiss first, do you?" he murmured softly with another one of those darn irresistible smirks. "After all, I didn't just shave my face for you to admire it in all it's gorgeousness."_

_A'isha gave him a look, her amused grin returning thanks to his teasing. Her hands slowly slid up his chest, before wrapping around his neck. He knelt down a little so that she didn't have to stand on her tiptoes, as he was a few inches taller than her._

" _I_ suppose _I'll give you a kiss," she whispered softly, before her lips gently graced his. She pulled away a few seconds later to smile softly at her man, silently wishing they already had the privacy that was her bedroom, for she would've felt far less inclined to end the kiss so soon… Quite the contrary, she would've deepened it without a second thought. But he_ was _sleeping over, so there would of course be time for that later._

_It was just unfortunate that he'd be leaving at an ungodly hour for an early shift at work, as she wouldn't get to enjoy being the little spoon into the late hours of the morning. But regardless, he was still staying the night and she was certain that there'd be plenty of time for making out later on in the evening...and much more. Not to mention a board game and an assortment of movies and junk food. And she looked forward to every second of it._

Tears tickled her bronze skin, snaking down the sides of her face only to be soaked up by her pillow. Fury overtook guilt and frustration, narrowing in on the man responsible for her breaking her promise to Julie. The one that had taken her away from everyone that she loved most. Her blurred vision wandered to the sleeping girl beside her. The fury that hardened her face faltered slightly, softening her expression.

 _Well...that statement isn't totally true. Amara's here too. And among those I consider to love most._   _Though sometimes she really gets on my nerves and leaves me questioning why I care so flippin' much._ At that thought, a half-hearted chuckle slipped past her lips, easing her somewhat.  _But if I'm honest, I'm rather relieved to have her here with me._ She softly bit her lip, face scrunching up in a mixture of fear and distaste.  _I couldn't imagine being here alone. And I don't think he'd planned on kidnapping Amara. She was merely available to him, and made it easy to get to me, the one he was really after… the one who unfortunately found out his name. If I'd been home alone, I bet Amara wouldn't be laying here beside me right now._

A'isha shuddered.  _The mere thought of not having a familiar face around in an insane situation like this… it's terrifying. Though at the same time, perhaps I would've tried to escape by now if Amara wasn't around to use as leverage._ Her anger returned at that thought.  _But he would've just used the rod on me if I'd tried to escape at the mall yesterday, even without Mar there..._

A'isha shook her head slowly, wiping away the remnants of her tears. She noticed the reds and oranges beyond the porthole had begun to fade, conceding to daybreak. Exhaling through her nose, she twisted in the sheets, her and her cousin now back to back as she stared at the wall straight ahead. She blinked, feeling her eyes ache in response, stinging thanks to a lack of sleep and too many tears. Her blue orbs fluttered shut and the stinging subsided a little as she welcomed the darkness. Willing away the remnants of her bitter thoughts, A'isha felt herself slowly drifting off.

* * *

Marik had slipped on a pair of snug fitting jeans, a tight ebony tank top and leather shoes the same shade as his top. He had tucked the Millennium Rod under his chocolate brown belt and, naturally, he was decked out in his usual arm, wrist and neck bands, along with a pair of dangling, gold earrings that jingled slightly in sync with his steps.

After trailing through corridors that were all too familiar, Marik stopped before a door that made him smirk with anticipation. He withdrew a pair of keys from the back left pocket of his jeans, unlocking the door with ease. The Egyptian slipped inside without so much as a knock, quietly shutting the door behind him only to observe the room.

Marik swiftly spotted both girls snuggled up beneath the sheets of the single bed. A'isha was busy spooning Amara, probably because she'd be on the floor if she wasn't busy clinging to her younger cousin, as the bed was a tight squeeze for both of them. A light snore left Little Amara's lips with each breath she took. He smirked at the sight, though briefly wondered why she hadn't forced Dear A'isha to sleep on the empty mattress in the linen cupboard.

"Jordan's so hot," Amara suddenly blurted out, making Marik roll his eyes. Seriously? That was among the girl's first thoughts upon waking u-

"He's too old for you..." A'isha mumbled back.

Marik cocked his head to the left, his brows furrowing.

"But what about the potato?" the younger girl groggily cried.

Realisation flashed through Marik's eyes, before mirth replaced it. The two girls were sleep talking. Oh his timing really was impeccable.

"What potato?" said A'isha, clearly confused.

"The one in the closet."

"There isn't a potato."

"Yes there is," Amara irritably insisted. "In the closet!"

"That's Marik..."

"Why's a Marik need a potato?"

"His shitty soup," A'isha basically growled.

Marik snorted. Even in her sleep she spat words of disdain about him. And his vegetable soup, apparently.

"He makes potato soup?"

"He tortures potatoes."

Marik barely suppressed a whelp of laughter as his hand flew to his mouth. King Marik today, potato torturer tomorrow!

"Ohhh..." Amara drawled. All was silent for a moment. "I'll be his potato."

Marik rolled his eyes. Even after kidnapping the silly girl, her mind still seemed to-

"No you'll be a celery."

"But I  _hate_  celery."

"Same..."

Another moment of silence. Marik's smirk was now ear to ear.  _Oh_   _I'm going to milk this opportunity for all it's worth._ He tiptoed over to the bed, peering over it at his captives as he decided that starting off with more innocent questions was the way to go, in case the two girls were somehow awake and by some miracle, actually managing to deceive him. He highly doubted it.

"Ish?" he whispered, barely holding back a conniving chuckle.

"Mm?"

"Why do you hate celery?" he drawled, fake innocence strewn through the sentence.

"It's.  _Evil_."

"Why?"

"It's green."

"Aren't most vegetables?"

"It's a special type of green. Like Jim Carrey as The Grinch..."

Marik's hand found his mouth as he momentarily pursed his lips to suppress a bark of laughter. "So you don't like the colour green?"

"Only sometimes..."

"Then what's your favourite colour?"

"Orange..."

"Like the dress you're wearing to that dinner with Marik?" he suggested with laughing eyes.

"That's my favourite shade... the asshole..."

Marik briefly thought back to Dani. How he seemed like the stereotypical tall, dark and handsome type that society always droned on about. "Do you have a type of guy, Ish?"

"Yeah..."

He smirked, his hand relying on the edge of the bed for support as he crouched down beside it. "So what  _is_  your type?" His laughing lavender eyes watched the back of A'isha's head intently, as she continued to cling onto her cousin to avoid sliding off the bed and onto the floor below.

" _My_  type?"

"That's right."

"Why d'ya wanna know?" she innocently said.

Marik shrugged. "Oh I'm just curious."

"I'll tell you..."

"Yes?"

"If you tell me yours."

Marik snorted. "I don't have one."

"Laaame," she groaned.

"So what's your type?"

"My type is..."

"Go on."

"...none of your  _damn_  business."

Marik sucked in air, refusing to acknowledge the burning sensation that had suddenly swept across his face. "How long have you been-"

"Long enough!" A'isha fervently hissed, releasing her hold around her cousin and throwing the sheets from her body to glare a full blown armoury of katanas at her captor. That is, until a horrified shriek shot from her lips as she slipped from the bed...and straight into the still-crouching boy beside it. Her cheeks flushed a thousand shades of red as she found herself lying on top of the smirking blond.

"Now really, Ish?" Marik clucked his tongue. "Not even a drink first?"

Face twisted with disgust, A'isha made a move to heave herself off of him, only to feel two arms snake around her waist. Before she'd even registered Marik's intentions, he had her pinned against the floor, sneering down at her... savouring the shock in her eyes, then the embarrassment, before they swam with fury.

"G-Get off of me!"

She could feel his smug grin as his lips grazed her ear. "Don't act like you're not enjoying this."

"What?!" A'isha shrieked in outrage, attempting to shove him off of her and failing oh so miserably. "Are you out of your freaking mind?" She blinked twice. "D-Don't answer that..."

"I've met Dani." He savoured the second long surprise in her eyes. "And I couldn't help but notice the many physical characteristics your lovely little boyfriend and I share."

As A'isha's shock dissipated, she was sourly reminded of her current predicament. She wriggled like crazy beneath him, desperately hoping he'd slip off of her enough to give her enough space to slide away from him. It didn't work. "Like  _what_?" she finally acknowledged his words... Verbally anyway. She'd acknowledged them physically the second he'd said them.

Marik's trademark smirk had her seething as he spoke, "Strong features, striking eyes, blond hair, tanned skin, toned stature, obvious wit and intelligence." His lips drew unsettlingly near to hers. "I could go on."

"What the hell are you doing!" she heard Amara suddenly growl.

Much to A'isha's chagrin, Marik's infuriating face was so close to hers that she couldn't even see her cousin. She could merely hear the springs of the single bed, then a thump that vibrated through the floor. It felt close.

Then much to her relief, Marik rolled off of her. As he did, Amara was brought into view and she realised the girl had been seconds away from grabbing Marik's shirt, no doubt with the intention of ripping him off of her.

From the corner of her eye, Ish caught a faint flash of light. She immediately knew what had caused it, purely by the laughter of the boy laying on the floor beside her, watching Amara. "Ah," he simply voiced in realisation as he quickly found his feet, all while eyeing the young girl, filling her with fear. "So that's why you shared a bed last night." His eyes narrowed on the now-trembling girl. "How cute. You actually think your dear cousin can protect you from me." He chuckled, sending a mocking glance A'isha's way. His sights returned to Amara a second later. "Foolish girl, your dear Ish proved only moments ago that she can't even protect herself."

Amara found the floor very interesting. When a shaky sob shook her frame, A'isha instantly knew why. And it only fuelled her hate for the arrogant jerk that smugly stood beside her.

She practically flew to her feet, scowling. "Leave her alone, you creep!" she hissed, shoving him once.

Marik merely chortled. "Don't tell me our little demonstration just now wasn't enough for you, Ish?" She didn't miss the suggestive lilt in his words. It had her wanting to wretch. Preferably all over him.

He closed any and all distance between them, but this time she refused to show even a sliver of fear, despite the way it had her stomach squirming and writhing within her like some dying thing.

"Get. Out."

He cocked his head to one side. "But I haven't even told you why I'm here yet?" His condescending tone made her fists curl at her sides.

"We don't care."

"You don't even care to join me for chocolate chip pancakes?" The taken aback look that accompanied his query could've almost passed for genuine. But A'isha knew better.

Her knuckles had quickly ran white. "Get. The Hell. Out."

All at once, Marik waved his finger and tsked. "I may like a girl with some fire," he pressed, satisfied as he caught her grind her teeth. He knew he was really getting to her. "But today I'm in no mood for your petulant, yet admittedly amusing defiance over something so trivial as breakfast."

"Excuse me?  _I'm_  petulant?" she shrieked in disbelief. "If anyone here is petulant, it's  _you_!" She roughly prodded his chest with her index finger as she enunciated that last word. "Mister 'I got kicked in the balls and proceeded to storm towards my kidnappee with my  _freaking dagger_  up in the air like a Ra-damned psychopath'!"

Marik's eyes narrowed dangerously. He turned his back on them to take slow steps towards the exit. "If only my intentions had rung true," the words came eerily soft, "I'd have one less captive to worry about."

A'isha winced, his words slapping her hard across the face.

Sir Jerk-A-Lot spun on his heel to face them once more. His eyes shifted to her younger cousin, who continued to cower away from his chilling gaze. "Not to mention Little Amara has proven far easier to break than you will." A mad smile revealed itself as he continued, "And trust me, A'isha... I  _will_  break you."

Amara went rigid at those words, while A'isha's eyes were a raging inferno of fury. "How dare you," she hissed through clenched teeth, beginning to reach for the first thing that caught her eye; the shoebox containing the grey flats he'd given her. "You are a nasty, disgusting, pig-headed,  _petulant_  and damn well good for nothing piece of freaking work!"

Marik merely chuckled as he gripped the door knob and coolly stepped through the doorway, as she gripped the shoebox hard within her quivering grasp.

"You can shove your chocolate chip pancakes right up your-"

The door slipped shut.

_Bang!_

An infuriated scream tore through the room beyond the door. It was the very reason for Marik's satisfied grin as he locked the door with a faint  _click_ , while eavesdropping on the string of curse words from his all too amusing captive. The silly girl failed to realise she was demonstrating the petulance she'd so fervently denied possessing. But she'd figure that out soon enough, and priceless wouldn't even begin to describe her expression when she did. He snorted with amusement. Perhaps he'd have to pay a visit to the camera room later.

After A'isha's display of defiance, Marik was seriously considering depriving the two girls of food for the day. At the very least, he'd deny a meal to his more stubborn captive. His grin grew as an amusing idea sparked to life in his mind. It was the reason for his scheming smirk as he strode onward to the kitchen as his stomach groaned with anticipation.

* * *

After half a minute of hurling a colourful string of curses at the poor door, A'isha slumped against the bed, glowering at the ceiling. Spitting curses at the door hadn't been nearly as satisfying as spitting them in Marik's arrogant face would have been. Her whole body felt ridiculously tense, aching from the anger that hissed through her veins. She could just feel stress rising within her, clamping down on her chest as though viciously fighting to suffocate her. And only then did she wince as a sharp pain shot through each side of her pelvis.

 _Oh great. The first sign that shark week is nigh._ She groaned in self-pity.  _No wonder I'm a loose cannon today. Or maybe Mr High and Mighty's just being a super jerkwad today._ She couldn't decide which excuse was more likely, so she settled on both.

Only then did A'isha realise that if she  _was_  about to get her monthly visitor, it'd be all his fault. She had a wonderful condition called endometriosis, and unfortunately it hurled her through the most excruciatingly painful periods. For the first couple of days, she'd barely manage to walk thanks to the pain, not to mention most of her time was spent cradling a toilet and spewing her guts out. After a day or two, the pain would become a little more bearable. At least, it felt far more tolerable after being dragged through hell and back again on day one and, usually, day two.

Due to her condition, A'isha took the contraceptive pill in order to skip her period two or three months at a time. Unfortunately, she hadn't exactly anticipated being kidnapped, so she'd missed two doses. That was usually all the prompting her body needed to bring on the agony. If shark week was just around the corner, A'isha hoped that by some miracle, Marik would become anything but a super insensitive jerk and wouldn't rub the condition in her face. Or that she'd become a shark herself and bite the asshole's head off. If she was honest, the second scenario sounded way more plausible.  _By Ra, how I absolutely loaaathe him._

A meek sob stole A'isha's attention. She straightened upon the bed, finding Amara still scouring the floor with dainty, tanned arms wrapped around herself. She could see her cousin trembling slightly.

She had to sympathise with the poor girl.  _I'm not surprised that she's so shaken up. I'd be pretty shaken up too if I'd just come face to face with the guy who I'd learned was messing with my head...almost literally._

"Mar," she softly breathed, patting a spot beside her on the bed. "Why don't you come sit with me?"

She forced a stiff nod, then shuffled to A'isha's side.

"I..." A'isha sighed. "I'm sorry you had to deal with all of that."

"Me?!" Amara cried in disbelief. "He was on top of you! He was basically  _sexually harassing_  you!"

A'isha's eyes sunk to the floor. "It's...not the first time."

"WHAT?" the younger girl basically screamed, swiftly finding her feet. "Ish, has he  _touched_  you? Like...  _touch_  touched you. Is- Is that what happened last night when you were alone with him?!"

"No!" Ish bit her lip, hating the way it quivered so pitifully. Whether from fear, fury or strain in general, she couldn't be sure. "He pinned me to the bed last night not long before you showed up." She briefly wondered when her nails had dug into the edge of the mattress beneath her. "He won't... _rape_  me," A'isha tried to reassure her, and yet she couldn't even believe the sentence herself. She didn't know Marik in the slightest. Really, she didn't have a clue as to what he was truly capable of... And she sure as hell didn't believe in his supposed "minimal set of morals".

"B-But if he's doing that after two days... what'll he be doing after a week or- or a month?"

Of all the times Amara had to find her logic, A'isha wished it hadn't been now. She only felt ten million times worse. She groaned, throwing her head in her hands as she slumped back against the bed. "We'd better not be stuck with him for  _that_ long."

"But what if we are and he tries to-"

"Amara..." The address came gentle, yet somehow firm. Her seldom heard cousinly tone was peeking through. "Unlike me, worrying has never been your forte. So  _please_..." Her hand found Amara's, "don't worry about me... I can handle whatever he throws at me." She swallowed hard.  _I hope._..

Both girls straightened on the bed as four clumsy knocks echoed through the room, followed by the click of the lock. "Is it okay if I come in?" a deep voice questioned in a thick, South African accent.

Amara instantly found her feet, a grin plastering itself upon her dainty face. "Jordan!" she squealed, dashing over to the door just as it opened to reveal her new obsession. She wasted no time in glomping the poor boy. Not that he seemed to care in the slightest, if the bright grin on his face was any indicator.

A'isha found her feet in a more orderly fashion. "I'm guessing you're here for your girlfriend in progress," she muttered, sending a sour look his way. She felt a little guilty being so cold, especially after Marik saying he was only a part of the creep's man harem to help his struggling family. But he was still a Rare Hunter and she certainly didn't approve of him dating her cousin. Not to mention she was likely PMSing. That never earned anyone any favours.

"Sadly not. I'm on the job at the moment." A'isha didn't miss the pity that swam in his eyes as they met hers.  _That can't be a good sign._

The smile he sent Mar's way seemed somewhat forced as he continued, "Master Marik wants Amara in the kitchen. There are pancakes waiting for you." His attention returned to A'isha, the sympathetic edge returning to his irises.

A'isha sent a stone cold scowl at nothing in particular. "Let me guess," she spat, bitterly twisting her arms across her chest. "I'm meant to stay here and starve, right?"

"Actually. . .Master Marik has requested your presence in his quarters."


	15. Chapter 14: Pinning, Pancakes, and Pirates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, there is a bit more foul language in this chapter than there has been so far. Ish is having a particular bad day, so who can blame her? There will also be a bit of foul language later in the fic as things get darker, angsty and more intense. Just thought we'd let you guys know. Also, we don't own "How I Met Your Mother" and we would just like to say now that we apologise if we forget to pop in a disclaimer for anything in this fic at any point. As always, please enjoy the reading! :)

**Chapter Fourteen:** **Pinning, Pancakes, and Pirates**

A'isha blinked twice. She didn't even know why she was so shocked by Mister High and Mighty's request for her presence. His primary goal in life since Saturday apparently had been to drive her mad. And so far, he'd been doing a pretty good job of it, clearly revelling in her misery, particularly after that call with Benu that had thrown him through some kind of "Control Freak Withdrawal".

That Benu, whoever she was, didn't seem the least bit intimidated by Marik and his magic stick. In fact, she seemed to think herself invincible, giving the creep a taste of his own medicine by hurling snarky remarks his way and savouring the irritation her taunts brought forth. A'isha wondered who this Benu lady was to Marik. An old girlfriend maybe? Or even family, since they both seemed to enjoy annoying the snot out of people?

"WHAT?" Amara suddenly shrieked, slicing through her thoughts. "Jordan, you can NOT be serious!"

Jordan's sympathetic gaze hadn't wavered one bit. "I wish I wasn't, Mar. I really do. But I have to follow Master Marik's orders."

A'isha snorted, this time beating her cousin to form words. "I'd rather stay here all day and starve than be alone with Creeper McCreeperson."

Jordan sighed. "I'm sorry, A'isha. I'm just... doing my job."

She was surprised that Jordan even knew her name. That is...until she recalled the day Marik had kidnapped her and Amara. Her nails bit harshly into her palms at the infuriating memory. Jordan had likely been one of the Rare Hunters who were around to hear Marik brag about learning her name, after he'd plucked that little detail from her soaked and shivering cousin's mind. It's not like the jerk had been subtle about it.

"And why exactly am I gracing him with my presence?"

"I'm not sure." He awkwardly rubbed his neck. "Master Marik is a, uhh, pretty private person."

A'isha snorted. "Then count yourself lucky you hardly know him." Not that she claimed to. He just seemed far more open around her than he did around his man harem. After all, she doubted he'd pinned them to various surfaces, whispered suggestive words in their ears and had ever actually gone out of his way to spend time with them. A'isha's face twisted in distaste. She realised that Marik becoming "more perverse" was a way more apt description. That realisation only elevated her unease.

Why did he get such a kick out of messing with her? Oh, A'isha knew why. She reacts to his baiting, and in doing so, she only amuses him further, encouraging him to continue with his infuriating antics. So why was he going out of his way to be alone with her? That one, she didn't quite have the answer to. Though she hoped it was for no other reason than to bait her and savour the results. Or  _did_  he really have ill-intentions and was simply waiting for the right time to...

A'isha shook her head in denial, as that same unease drove her to slap away those unsettling thoughts. The anxiety they spewed forth would only be apparent in her body language when she reached his quarters, and she refused to show just how much he got to her. That would only encourage him.

A'isha sighed. "Can I at least use the restroom first?" she asked Jordan, hoping she wouldn't regret not kicking up more of a fuss.

"Wait- WHAT?" Amara marched between them, sending a look of utter disbelief A'isha's way. "You can't be serious? You're  _actually_  gonna go to his quarters after he was just on top of you?!"

A'isha didn't miss Jordan's eyes bulge a little at the latter of Amara's words, like he was a little taken aback at hearing his boss had more or less sexually harassed her. She didn't know why it was such a surprise. What did he expect from the leader of an infamous criminal organisation, who used a magical artifact to read and manipulate the minds of anyone he chose? Maybe Marik  _was_  gay. She hoped so. "Amara," she said with a sigh. "I don't have a choice. I have to-"

"Of course you have a choice!" She flailed her arms through the air. "You can say NO and stay HERE!"

One glance at Jordan told A'isha that suggestion terrified him. "I doubt Marik takes kindly to failure, Mar. If your boyfriend returns to Marik's quarters without me, it'll spell disaster for him."

Desperation writhed in Amara's eyes. "A'isha, why are you being so horribly submissive?" Mar looked like she was about to cry. Whether out of worry for her well-being, or to try and guilt trip Jordan into letting her get her way, A'isha couldn't be sure.

A'isha's visage grew grim. "There's submissive and then there's self-preservation...or in this case,  _cousin_ -preservation." She sighed. "And there's a difference between the two."

"But what if he tries to-"

"Better me than you."

Amara's jaw dropped. "A'isha, you can't-"

"Go to the kitchen, Mar," A'isha said softly, settling a reassuring hand on the shorter girl's shoulder. "Don't worry about me. Please. I'll be fine."

Amara had been through enough thanks to Marik, and she wasn't exactly made of stone. Not that A'isha was. No one was, when pressed enough. But she liked to think of herself as a little more resilient than her hyperactive cousin. And she liked to try and believe in Marik's supposed minimal set of morals, if for no other reason than to slice away her fear at being alone with him once more. They'd been alone in his quarters yesterday and nothing had happened, but that was before he'd pinned her down... twice in a matter of hours.

A'isha groaned, hating the thoughts that dominated her mind. She glanced over her shoulder at the switch that opened the "bathroom wall", then looked at Mar. "I expect you to be gone once I leave the bathroom." Her next words were particularly stern. "Is that clear?"

Amara nodded meekly, though the look she wore screamed that she still didn't approve.

A'isha didn't bother to ask again for Jordan's approval to use the restroom. She refused to tempt fate's cruel hands when her period was likely nigh and she was about to be stuck with Marik till who knows when. She would take precautions before going anywhere, and was so glad to have bought a bunch of tampons back in Marina "just in case". Who knows? If the creep  _did_ try anything funny, maybe she could deter him by insisting it was  _that_ time of the month. Though really, would someone twisted enough to force themselves on another really care about things like that? Probably not. But she could still hope... Well, if it actually  _did_ come to that. Obviously, she hoped it didn't. Though even if it did deter him from  _that_ , who was to say he wouldn't just hurl her through another form of torture...besides the undeniable mental torture she'd endured these past few days?

_By Ra, I hope he hasn't read my mind, because these thoughts are just humiliating!_

A'isha had returned from the bathroom a few minutes later, feeling slightly more at ease now that she didn't have to worry as much about starting that time of the month around Sir Jerk-A-Lot. That could've been super awkward, to say the least.

* * *

Surprisingly, Amara had listened for once in her life and had left for the kitchen. Now A'isha found herself following Jordan through a myriad of hallways that were slowly becoming familiar to her.

When they were around halfway to Marik's room, Jordan slowed his pace, walking beside her rather than a few steps ahead. "You, uhh... seem more like sisters than cousins."

"I've lived with her my whole life," she said simply.

Jordan's expression morphed with sympathy. He seemed to really favour the pity look when in her presence. She couldn't really blame him. Her life had never really come close to rainbows and sunshine. Or maybe she was just over-analysing and he felt bad for her because she'd put up with Amara her whole life? Well...Jordan somehow seemed to fancy Mar so she doubted that, but she could still dream.

"Why did you grow up with Amara's family?"

"My parents died when I was three months old...thanks to a drunk driver..." Frowning, she realised that stupid dinner ruse fell on the same date as the anniversary of their death: the twenty third of December. And sadly, the anniversary of their passing wasn't the only reason that date was significant to her.

"I'm...sorry to hear that." She could tell he meant it.

They both fell silent, but A'isha couldn't stand it for long. "What about you?" She eyed him curiously. "What's your story?"

Jordan quickly looked ahead, though not before she caught sight of the sorrow that squirmed in his eyes. "I'm the oldest of five." He found the floor quite intriguing as he continued, "My father was abusive...and not exactly an upstanding citizen. He's in prison now." It sounded like he was biting back tears. "And my mother's very ill. Too ill to work." His voice cracked. "So...here I am."

She immediately felt bad for any bitter thoughts she'd had about the guy. "I'm sorry to hear that," she repeated his words from merely a minute ago; something told her they meant a lot more than he was letting on. She bet he was used to being strong for his family, hiding the hopelessness, fear and sorrow that shook his mind. He was the one person that they relied on...and he was afraid that they'd lose that last bit of faith if they saw how much of an affect their family struggles had on him. He had to be strong for them. He had her respect for that.

Jordan was silent, and A'isha decided to leave him to his thoughts.. Soon enough, they stood before a familiar door. "It's already unlocked, but he requests that you knock." Pity writhed in his eyes now more than ever. "Good luck." The two words were barely audible. He must've been worried his boss would hear and possibly punish him for the attempt at reassurance. That only made her appreciate his well wishes more. With that, he left her alone in the hallway.

A'isha's eyes were fixed to the door. She'd become far too acquainted with it since boarding Marik's slave ship. Glancing left and right, she noted the hallway was empty. Why shouldn't she just stand up the jerk and dash back to her room to catch some more Zs?  _Preservation_ , she quickly reminded herself, scowling at the door as she knocked on it thrice.

"Enter," came an all too recognisable voice.

A'isha desperately battled the hesitation that writhed within her as she slowly inched the door open. He was sitting at a mahogany desk pressed against the wall directly ahead of her. Thankfully, his back was to her.  _At least I don't have to look at his stupid face just yet,_ she reasoned, biting back a smirk as she slipped into the room, shutting the door behind her.

"You kept me waiting." He didn't bother to face her.

She simply rolled her eyes.  _Would he rather I risk bleeding all over his floor?_  she sourly thought, barely resisting the urge to snap at him. But she decided to stay quiet, if for no other reason than to avoid seeing his face a little longer. He'd probably turn to face her if she spoke. Though he very well still could if she said nothing. Much to her relief, he didn't.

A minute ticked by, leaving her to savour the semi-soothing sound of Ed Sheeran floating through Marik's laptop speakers. She swore she could hear him quietly singing along, which kind of ruined the tune for her. Not to mention he was listening to an artist whose music she enjoyed; she didn't like the idea of having anything in common with him.

A'isha briefly registered the faint tapping of his keyboard. His body hid most of the screen, but she thought she could make out Microsoft Excel.  _Don't tell me he actually does work in his role as the leader of the Rare Hunters? Or as the... what is he better known as again?_ She briefly recalled Uncle Ahad's rants about his job as a cop... about the string of robberies the Rare Hunters had likely been responsible for. Then her mind wandered to the nickname that Benu woman had used to address Marik on the phone the previous night.  _Benu called him "Dear Mister R.H."..._ Her eyes flashed with realisation.  _The R.H.! That's what Ahad called the Rare Hunters' leader._

Marik still didn't face her when he spoke up again. "If you look left, you'll see three suits laid out on the bed." His words were firm, almost in a briefing manner. "And if you take a look in my closet, you'll find a chest of drawers. In the second drawer from the top is a selection of ties." He finally spun on his chair to meet her gaze. The first thing she caught was his smirk. "You might want to avoid the first drawer."

She instantly knew the top drawer housed his underwear. She tried her best to ignore his baiting despite the faint blush that grazed her cheeks, and instead focused on his first sentence. "Are you  _actually_  letting me pick your outfit for the proposition?" She was skeptical, but at least if he wasn't yanking her chain, he  _sort of_  had a valid reason for requesting her presence.

"No, you're picking my outfit for the day," he said sarcastically. "Of course this is for the proposition."

"Why are you giving me a choice?"

"I chose your dress. Is it not fair that you select my suit?"

Folding her arms, she stayed close to the door. "Since when do you care about being fair?!"

He spun on his chair to face his laptop once more. "Just choose an outfit, girl," he muttered dismissively.

A growl clawed at her throat.  _It's A'ISHA! Not GIRL!_  she screamed in her head, having forgotten all prior self-promises to keep cool in Marik's presence as she stormed over to his bed. She blamed PMS for her extra short temper.

Each suit was a different colour: traditional black, navy blue and smoke grey, and all three had a white dress shirt underneath. Her hand found her chin as she examined her choices.  _Dani wore a black suit to our first school ball...and wore a navy blue suit to our second..._ With a sad sigh, her sights settled on the grey suit.  _Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner._

A'isha spun on her heels to seek out the closet. It was ridiculously big and jam-packed with various tops, bottoms, shoes, jackets and – of course – jewellery. Marik  _did_  strike her as a pretty boy, so she wasn't surprised. Upon further inspection, she noticed the space was disturbingly well organised too. That didn't surprise her either.

Ish quickly spotted a chest of drawers, briefly cringing at the first drawer before rolling the second towards her. She went slack jawed upon finding a ridiculous collection of ties inside it. "Why the heck do you have so many ties? All you ever seem to wear is that dress!"

"I collect them." He sounded far away, probably still at his desk.

A'isha snorted. "Should I start calling you Barney?"

"Who?"

She jumped; he suddenly sounded way closer. She turned to find him casually leaning against the door frame to his closet. Regret filled her instantly, as she realised speaking to him had only encouraged him to talk to her. When he arched a brow, she was reminded that she hadn't yet answered his question.

She cleared her throat a little sheepishly. "Y-You know... Barney Stinson..." She was met by confusion. "From How I Met Your Mother?" More confusion. "He has a crazy obsession with suits."

"I've never seen it."

"Of course you haven't." She couldn't resist a smirk. "It's a comedy."

"What are you implying by that?"

"You don't strike me as the type to watch comedies."

He lightly pushed away from the door frame, moving towards her. "You're not wrong."

"Are you incapable of telling someone that they're right?"

He now stood directly before her, mirth dancing in his eyes. "I just did."

A'isha merely responded with an eye roll, before turning her attention to the sea of ties neatly laid out in the drawer. She grabbed the first one she saw: a deep purple tie with diagonal stripes in a lavender shade. Honestly, she couldn't care less about how he dressed for this thing. Though, ironically, she thought the tie would complement his grey suit quite nicely. Turning back to Marik, she shoved the accessory against his chest and let go, forcing him to catch it. "Aaand your get up is done." Ish smiled in mock sweetness. "Can I go now?" She didn't wait for an answer, instead marching past his smirking self and out of the closet. Unsurprisingly, he followed.

"Actually, I was about to have breakfast. I'm expecting my servant to bring it shortly." The words came far too innocently. When she turned to find him wearing an angelic expression ridden with underlying amusement, she knew why.

"You. Freaking. Asshole."

"What?" He was playing dumb.

"You plan on eating your stupid pancakes in front of me just to rub it in my face that I'm not getting any!"

"I never said you weren't getting any."

"Well  _am_  I?"

"No."

"You are  _so_  predictable!" she huffed. "Go on. Prove me wrong! I know you want to."

He stepped well within her personal bubble. "Would I truly be proving you wrong after you just asked that I do so?"

"Oh please," she scoffed. "You're predictable either way. Try to prove me wrong and you prove me right, or try to prove me right by refusing to prove me wr-"

A gasp shot through her lips as Marik pulled her against his chest, his arms snaking around her waist and holding on tight.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she shrieked, desperately wedging her hands between them to push hard against his chest. She could see his smug smirk from the corner of her eye; not that she needed to  _see it_  to know it was there. "Let go of me!" She pushed harder, hating the feeling of déjà vu that seemed to laugh at her misfortune in time with the jerk that refused to release his hold on her. "What the hell is your problem, you- you freaking rapist!?" One last passionate push. He stumbled backwards, still holding her tightly.

A'isha was near certain she heard a gasp from Marik mix with hers as they painfully tumbled to the floor. Blinking twice, she only needed a few seconds to come to grips with her current predicament. She groaned, looking down at him. "Seriously? Twice in one damn day!"

"You should be thankful." The clear enjoyment in his voice made her furious. One of his hands remained on her waist, while the other gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I  _did_ consider kissing you, but-"

In an instant, A'isha yanked herself from his embrace to hurl a knee straight into his prized family jewels. She was satisfied when a groan croaked from his throat. "That's for even  _considering_  kissing me, you freaking pervert!" she barked, leaping to her feet. "And for touching my hair..." she added as an afterthought. She savoured the way his face twisted in agony, his teeth clenched while he curled into the fetal position. Though the low growl that hissed from his throat a moment later was rather sobering. But she refused to show her fear.

Though that  _did_  remind her...where was the rod? She wanted to be semi-prepared, in case he went full psycho on her again, charging towards her with the dagger held high like on day one of their lovely cruise. She quickly discovered that it wasn't tucked under his belt like it had been earlier. After scanning the room, she found it resting on the desk beside his laptop.

"You know," Marik hissed through his teeth, "I  _do_  want to have children one day."

A'isha shrugged, despite how badly she wanted to laugh at his expense. "So I'm doing the world a favour." The second the comeback left her lips, she mentally scolded herself for giving her mouth  _and_ her knee free reign over common sense. Even if getting some sort of revenge on her captor felt great.

Much to her surprise, Marik ignored the jab, instead focusing on lugging himself off the floor, wincing all the while. She may have been able to suppress a laugh, but hiding a satisfied smirk was another thing entirely. After all, last time he'd been delivered a painful blow to the groin, she'd been too preoccupied with escaping to savour it.

That smirk was quickly swept away as, with cruel irony, a sharp pain stabbed her pelvic area. She gnashed her teeth, instinctively massaging the sore spot a little bit below her belly button.  _Karma, I think you've got the wrong victim here!_

When Marik grunted again, she found him looking much the same, gnashing his teeth in pain. Though thankfully, he wasn't gripping the region that hurt. If he did, she'd probably die from embarrassment... Or maybe disgust. Actually... just both.

Another wave of pain slashed through her, bringing forth a bitter scowl. Eyeing her captor, she realised her actions were going completely against her mind's insistence for preservation. But she couldn't help that the guy was a major jerk, or that his actions just happened to make her throw her senses out the door, to be replaced by anger, disdain and the need to maintain her pride.

She refused to acknowledge that she saw a little of Dani in him. One time, she'd accidentally hit the poor guy in the nether region while they were play fighting, and he'd looked much the same way afterwards. He'd even made a similar snarky comment about wanting kids one day. She also refused to admit that Marik wasn't wrong in saying he shared a lot of her boyfriend's physical traits. They even had some things in common as far as their personality went, aside from their snarkiness; for a start, they both loved to tease the snot out of her, though she could find humour in Dani's teasing – even return it. Two things she couldn't do with the infuriating boy in front of her. And yet, looking at him now, she couldn't help but pity him in his sorry state. She hated it.

A'isha sighed, hoping she wouldn't regret her impending actions. "Go hop on your bed."

And of course regret smothered her when a suggestive smirk slid across his lips, despite the way he was hunched in front of her, obviously in pain. "Why, Ish... This is so sudden. Not that I'm complain-"

"If you want another kick to the nuts instead of some help, just keep on being a dirty pervert."

Marik amazed her with his silence, though unsurprisingly, his smirk remained as he all but waddled over to his bed, soon settling on top of the sheets.

"If you could see how ridiculous you just looked, you wouldn't be smirking."

"I'm not seeing that assistance you mentioned."

A'isha felt it was a wonder her eyes hadn't fallen out of their sockets by now, with how frequently she'd been rolling them. She marched over to the exit, yanking the door open and stepping through it. Then she remembered once more that she was revealing just how much he vexed her, rather than keeping a level head, which was why she forced herself to click the door shut in a far more gentle fashion. The faint chuckle she heard through the door on fuelled her frustrations. He was laughing at her sudden attempted display of composure.

Narrowly withholding a bitter groan lest he hear, she barely resisted the desire to storm off down the hallway, instead walking in a more poised manner, all while hoping she wouldn't get lost trying to find the kitchen. And that the kitchen was more or less empty by this time of the morning, seeing as it'd be kind of awkward – not to mention hard to explain – why she was searching for an ice pack, some pain killers and the like.

* * *

A rather sad sense of achievement overcame A'isha as she stepped into the kitchen, having stunned herself by finding it with ease. That brought forth a groan. Maneuvering the corridors of Marik's slave ship really shouldn't have felt so satisfying.

"Ish!" came a high pitched squeal. Seconds later, she grunted as she was basically tackled by her cousin. It only reminded her of Sir Jerk-A-Lot's revolting embrace minutes ago. "You're okay!"

"O-Of course!" she squeaked, feeling like her lungs were being crushed. As she desperately wriggled free of Amara's hold, she couldn't help but notice a small smile directed their way. It was the man who'd helped her with her soaked cousin on day one of their luxury, all expenses paid trip to who the heck knows where. She recalled his name: Odion.

His sights returned to the kitchen stove, where he tended to something inside a large pan on the stove top. To his left, a plastic bowl sat on the bench, full of what looked like pancake mixture. He must have been the one making Marik's breakfast. She briefly wondered how well Odion knew her frustrating captor. He seemed a little like a peacekeeper, having picked up the pieces of the drama that had resulted in Amara being drenched, not to mention their capture. She doubted Marik trusted his Rare Hunters, so it was probably a privilege to be trusted enough by him to be tasked with cooking his breakfast...as stupid as that privilege sounded.

A delicate hand frantically waved back and forth before her eyes. "Earth to Ish!" Amara sung, nudging her shoulder.

"Huh?" she voiced, realising an unimpressed Amara now stood in her direct line of sight, between her and Odion.

"Were you even listening?!"

"No." A'isha didn't miss Odion bite back a grin from his place beside the stove. He was clearly amused by her bluntness.

Amara huffed. "I was asking if you're okay? You know...after being  _alone_  with that creep!"

She noticed Odion's amusement suddenly vanish. If anything, he looked sombre. Somehow, she doubted it was a coincidence that his expression had changed after Mar mentioning his boss.

"I was also wondering if you wanna come watch a movie with me... Jordan's busy."

A'isha chose to ignore the way Mar made it sound like she was her second option to Jordan as far as watching a movie went, despite the way it irked her a little. Really, she had far more infuriating things to stress over.

"I'm fine, Mar." She cleared her throat, stepping around her and towards the nearby fridge. "But I, uhh, have to go back to Marik's room."

Her cousin's eyes bulged. "You what?!" The girl's brows furrowed. "Then why are you out here?"

"I have to grab a few things." She would've had no qualms about saying she'd kicked Marik in the groin, if Amara wouldn't go on to ask why; the answer to that question would only make Mar freak that much more over her safety. Not to mention Amara would read too much into the fact she's going out of her way to help him cope with the aftermath.

"What things do you have to grab?" Mar's hands flew to her mouth as she gasped. "Oh gosh! Marik didn't ask for the chocolate sauce and whipped cream I saw in the fridge, did he?! Because if he did, Ish, I can tell you now that they are NOT for his pancakes! They're for his-"

"I'm not here for chocolate sauce  _or_  whipped cream!" A'isha interrupted before she could finish that unbearably awkward sentence.

"Then why are you-"

"Miss A'isha was sent here to retrieve Master Marik's breakfast," a gentle voice spoke up, with a hint of amusement underlying the words that Amara failed to notice. Smiling, Odion set a plate of still-steaming pancakes on the bench, which A'isha scooped up with not even a hint of hesitation. Hopefully Amara would shut up if she played along.

Amara blinked twice, glancing at Odion. Her face scrunched up. "Really?" she muttered, looking back to her older cousin. "Is he, like, making you his bitch or something?"

"I am NOT his bitch!" A'isha growled without a second thought.

"Well okay then," Amara quickly said, waving her arms defensively. "I'm just worried about you is all."

"I'm fine, Mar." She knew that was the biggest lie of the century, even without Marik thrown into the equation. She was never really fine. Just good at hiding it. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden. Elissa already made her feel like one when she  _didn't_  express her feelings. Groaning, she couldn't decide who she hated more: Elissa or Marik. Both made her blood boil.

With a sigh, A'isha absently shifted the plate of pancakes from her right hand to her left and back again. "Are you going to watch that movie in the same room as last night?"

"Yeah I- Wait." She cocked a brow. "How do you know what room I was in last night?"

"I woke up wondering where you were, heard you laughing and blabbing on and on to Jordan, and didn't want to interrupt."  _For the sake of my sanity._

Amara crossed her arms. "You  _do_  realise you're not my mother, right?"

"I'm more of a mother to you than Elissa ever was."

"Don't talk shit about my mother! She  _raised_  you!"

A'isha almost slammed the plate on the bench. She ignored the slightly terrified look worn by Odion; her attention firmly focused on the girl before her. At any other time of the month, she would have simply rolled her eyes at Amara's ridiculous comment. But now, PMS was taking over, along with the stress that already gnawed at her exhausted brain. "Elissa didn't raise me," she spat. "If anyone raised me it was Julie's parents! They've practically been there for me since Julie and I became instant besties at preschool!"

"Oh! So what about my dad? Are you talking shit about him now too?!"

"I've got nothing against Uncle Ahad! Well...aside from the fact he's too whipped by Elissa to ever even  _think_  about sticking up for what's right when she's a total tyrant to me!" Ish gave a dry laugh. "Funny, isn't it? He's a cop; sticking up for what's right is his job...and yet he can't even do  _just that_  under his own roof!"

"Dad's just-" Mar's voice cracked. "He's just busy!"

A'isha sent a look of utter disbelief her way. "Busy? He's just  _busy_." She scoffed. "These past sixteen years, huh? He must be one busy guy!" Another dry laugh. "Or maybe he just chooses to be ignorant because he's too scared of Elissa to tell her off when she's a cow because he knows she'll just give him the silent treatment until he caves and apologises for something he shouldn't! I'm pretty sure that's how it used to go back in the day, before he just gave up entirely and decided to turn a blind eye! It's easier on him. Who cares if it makes me feel worse? Who cares if it only encourages her because she knows she can get away with it, no sweat?! As long as his darling monster of a wife is happy-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Amara roared, eyes narrowed to slits as she stormed right up to the older girl. She looked like she was mulling over whether or not to shove the her.

"Why should I?" A'isha's bottom lip quivered, hot liquid burning her eyes and blessing her with a pounding headache. But she refused to stand down. "Does the truth hurt  _that much_!?"

Amara quickly caved, shoving her once as she screamed, "YOU'RE AN UNGRATEFUL BITCH!"

"AND YOU'RE BLIND!"

A lone tear snaked down Amara's cheek, but A'isha willed herself to ignore the guilt that reared its head her way.

Amara's hazel gaze was piercing as it met hers. "I hate you."

A'isha flinched. The girl might as well have slapped her, and yet it was nothing she hadn't heard before; just her infuriating cousin fighting to have the last word and not knowing what else to say to hurt her. So why  _did_  it hurt so much? The answer hit her almost instantly. If she didn't have Amara, then she truly  _was_  alone in all of this mess. It left a sickening pit in her stomach.

Her attention was stolen by Amara's loud stomps as she stormed toward the exit. After all, the only way the girl could enter or exit a room was dramatically. "Have fun dealing with her PMS!" she growled, raising A'isha's anger another notch. Then she realised the girl wasn't talking to Odion, who she'd thought was the only other person in the room.

The sickening pit in A'isha's stomach grew into a gaping hole as she caught sight of a blond head of hair and an entertained smirk. Marik was leaning coolly against the doorway, his sights settled on her rather than the younger girl who had stormed off down the corridor and out of sight. Of all the people to hear that little spat, Mister High and Mighty had to be the worst of the worst.

"You're supposed to be back in your room with sore balls!"

"You were taking a while." His smirk stretched as he pushed off the door frame. "And now I know why."

A glare was plastered upon her face as he strode past her, wincing once or twice as he moved. That was indication enough that his family jewels were still aching. It cheered her up a little.

Marik glanced at the plate of pancakes that she'd basically slammed onto the bench, then he turned to Odion. "I take it these are mine?"

"Of course, Sir."

"Make another batch." He sent a mocking smile his captive's way. "Little A'isha could benefit from some sweetening up right now."

She was torn between gratefulness and wanting to strangle him. Mostly the latter.

Odion immediately headed for the fridge, withdrawing ingredients she assumed were for those pancakes. "Don't worry about me, Odion," she said, guilty at the thought of him making another round of pancake batter just for her. "I'm not that hungry."

"He's not  _your_  servant." Marik's nonchalant tone over such a horrible title had her seething. He spared a one-eyed glance over his shoulder at the elder man, who was presently withdrawing ingredients from the fridge. "While you're there, Odion, if you would be so kind as to grab me a bottle of coca cola."

Odion did so instantly, handing Marik a plastic bottle filled with dark liquid. "Servant," he casually drawled. He absently tossed the bottle from his left hand to his right and back again, smirking the whole time. "I imagine that address isn't at all appealing to you." She said nothing. He didn't seem surprised. Any words she formed in her current state would probably spell disaster. "I wonder... does the address infuriate you as a result of the negative connotation surrounding the title, or more so because a servant is all you've ever been to your aunt?"

A'isha bit back words of disdain. She knew he was trying to goad her, especially as she had a particularly short fuse after arguing with Amara.

He simply laughed at her silence, heading over to the sink merely a metre away from where she stood. She arched a brow when he shook the bottle above the sink, a look of innocence pasted on his visage. She knew by that damn look that he was about to do something to peeve her off.

"You're lovely little spat has brought a simple, yet undeniably true expression to the forefront of my mind." A sharp fizzle met her ears as he twisted and removed the lid. "Shake the bottle enough-" Froth gushed into the sink "-and it will explode."

A'isha's eyes narrowed to slits. Fury drove her to thwack the bottle clear out of his hand. It soon collided with the wooden floor, where the contents quickly pooled around it.

His smirk hadn't wavered, a tell that he'd been expecting a reaction. "You know, I was about to drink that."

"Sorry." She smiled sweetly. "I exploded."

"Can Dani make you explode without even laying a finger on you?"

A'isha was near certain those pancakes would fry on her head right about now. As her hands curled into fists, she imagined them colliding with his pretty boy face, wiping that smirk clean off it in the process. But he'd see that coming from a mile away. So, gathering the little composure that remained, A'isha slowly sucked in air as an attempt to calm her nerves. As she exhaled just as slowly, her sights snapped to Odion, who had his head down, whisking the pancake batter a little too closely. Poor guy.

"Odion?" she drawled, earning a glance from the man in question. "I don't suppose it'd be too much to ask for you to please bring those pancakes to my room?"

Marik's chuckle seized her attention. "Perhaps I was mistaken. You seem to have no qualms about ordering Odion around like your own personal slave."

A'isha was a hair away from snapping, when another voice bet her to speaking, and in a far calmer manner. "Marik... Your pancakes are getting cold."

That had to be the most polite 'shut up' she'd ever heard in her life. A'isha exhaled the breath she had been holding for the last half minute and she barely suppressed a laugh as she smiled slightly.

Today was apparently full of surprises and A'isha could swear her eyes were deceiving her when Mr. I-own-the-place actually heeded the other man's suggestion without a word.

The joy again was short lived as another stab of her monthly visitor's pending arrival shot through her. She was able to just barely suppress a wince, but it must've been written all over her face as Odion wore a brief look of concern. Luckily Marik was pouring himself some coffee whilst facing the opposite wall rather than the door; the last thing she needed was him having glee at her expense…well more of it anyway.

"This batter isn't far off being tossed in the pan," Odion softly said. "Why don't you go wait in your room? It really is no trouble for me to bring them to you."

"Thank you, Odion." She minutely glared at the back of Marik's head. He had just slid into a chair at the dining table that faced the window, munching away at his pancakes between gulps of coffee. "At least someone around here isn't a total jerk-off."

A sudden half snort-half splutter suddenly filled the room. A'isha quickly realised Marik had been sipping his coffee when she'd said that, and had snorted in amusement before remembering he was drinking. It was the reason for the smirk that had slid onto  _her_  lips for a change, as she hoped he'd coughed coffee all over his breakfast. She swore she caught Odion smiling too.

"And with that," she began, heading towards the door, "I think I'll take my leave."

"Very well, Miss A'isha." Odion had easily regained his composure. "I'll deliver breakfast in fifteen minutes."

* * *

By the time she reached her box of a room, A'isha had ten or so minutes to spare. In that time, she used the restroom, swapped out tampons – surprised to find she still hadn't been greeted by her monthly visitor – and after washing her hands, spent the remaining however many minutes just staring at the ceiling, stewing over her misfortune these past few days.

However, when the image of Marik spit-taking his coffee back in the kitchen flashed through her mind, A'isha couldn't resist a laugh. It had been nice to be on the delivering end of the humiliation for once. Granted he deserved far worse, but it was still something.

Four gentle knocks resonated through the room, tugging her from her reminiscing. She straightened to a sitting position on the bed, with her feet firmly on the floor. "It's unlocked. Come on in." The slight joy in those words surprised even her; anticipation at interacting with someone who  _wasn't_  a jerk?

She was happy to see Odion's face behind that door for a change. She'd half expected to see Marik's, purely because the universe really seemed to hate her...especially these last few days. The sweet scent of pancakes wafted through the air as Odion set a tray on the bedside table. Three generously sized chocolate chip pancakes were stacked on a plate. Also on the tray was a mug full of steaming brown liquid... plus a can of whipped cream and a bottle of chocolate sauce.

Odion smiled. "I thought it best to let you decide if you wanted either topping."

A'isha opened her mouth, about to say that they both knew Amara had put her off the chocolate sauce and whipped cream when she'd suggested another use – or rather another place – for them... But she caught sight of the camera and quickly bit back the remark, not wanting to throw more fuel on Marik's fire of snide comments. Instead she settled on a simple "thank you".

"That's quite alright, Miss A'isha." He nodded towards the mug on the tray. "I hope the mocha is to your liking."

A'isha revealed a smile that, for the first time in a while, didn't feel forced. "If it tastes as good as those pancakes smell, I'm sure it will be." He smiled at that. "By the way," she continued, "feel free to drop the 'Miss'. I'm happy for you to just call me A'isha."

He nodded. "I'll try, M- A'isha." It was her turn to smile once more. "Is there anything else that I can do for you, A'isha?"

Her mind wandered back to the kitchen... To Odion's polite shut up... And even to the fact that he'd addressed his boss by name; no Master or anything. Just Marik. She knew Marik saw Odion differently to the other Rare Hunters, and she wanted to know why. A'isha bit her lip when a green light flashed at the corner of her eye. The blasted camera. Again. Her fists balled at her sides, resting upon the mattress. "You've done plenty." This time, her smile was sadly forced. "Thanks again, Odion...for making this whole thing somewhat bearable."

She didn't miss him spare a glance at the camera as he headed for the exit. He stopped in the doorway. "Do not concern yourself with tidying up." Another smile. "If you leave your dishes on the bedside table, I'll return in due time to collect them."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded.

"Well... thanks again."

After sparing one last, gentle smile her way, Odion took his leave, sliding the door to a close behind him. A'isha's eyes shifted from the door to her breakfast. As if on cue, her stomach groaned. As she lifted the tray onto her lap, she welcomed the sliver of normalcy that pancakes for breakfast brought forth. They were better than vegetable soup, that was for sure. After the first mouthful, another smile revealed itself. "Waayyy better than vegetable soup."

The second she spoke, A'isha glanced up at the camera and sighed. She really needed to break her habit of thinking out loud. Granted she'd been succeeding so far...mostly...but when one wrong thought could and would be used against her, one particularly poor slip up was all Marik needed to make things ten times worse for her. At least the thought she'd voiced this time around was a given and, by extension, not at all embarrassing. Though knowing Sir Jerk-A-Lot, he'd still somehow manage to warp it into some infuriating comment that would leave her wanting to strangle him in his sleep. Or at any time really...though if she strangled him while he was awake, he'd probably overpower her. Why was she even thinking about this?

 _I really need to distract myself after breakfast is over,_  she decided, thinking back to all the rooms Marik had shown her on that oh-so-lovely tour of his.  _After being pinned by Creeper McCreeperson twice since showering last night, I really could do with another... and maybe then I'll watch a movie in one of the not-so-frequented lounges._  She rushed to finish her breakfast, if for no other reason than to be one step closer to semi-distracting herself from her current predicament.

* * *

After scoffing down her pancakes and savouring a particularly long shower, A'isha had thrown on one of the many over-sized shirts and baggy pants she'd chosen back in Marina. She hadn't bothered to wet her hair. Instead, she'd tied it up into a high, lazy bun, simply so it'd be out of the way. After showering though, she let it back down.

Now, she was unceremoniously sprawled across a three seater couch, with her head on one arm rest while her feet were on the other. On a generously sized flat screen TV, the end credits to Pirates of the Caribbean were playing. She'd picked it the second she'd seen it on the DVD rack. It was a childhood favourite. After the initial 'getting over the fact she'd watched the movie with Julie far more than was probably healthy', A'isha had actually found the film enjoyable. Better yet, she'd been alone through the whole thing. No Marik. No Amara. No seedy Rare Hunters. Just the sound of her own company... and Captain Jack Sparrow's ditziness.

Suddenly A'isha registered the sound of slow, calculated steps behind her. Her stomach sunk. Those steps were far too familiar. Not bothering to straighten on the couch, she turned her head on the arm rest, peering behind her to find Mister High and Mighty at the entrance. He leaned his left shoulder against the corresponding door frame with that infuriating, trademark smirk plastered firmly on his face.

A'isha looked away, slumping into the couch as the wall ahead of her fell victim to a venomous glare. "What do you want, Marik?" she spat, already feeling her stress levels rising. "Can't you see I'm enjoying some peace and quiet?"

"You should know by now that I can't have you happy for long."

"More like you can't leave me alone for long."

Though muted courtesy of the beige carpet, those punctuated steps still unsettlingly continued as he left the doorway, each one harder to ignore as they signalled the dwindling distance. And her unease only heightened at his silence.

A'isha decided she preferred his silence the instant he broke it. "I can't help that you amuse me."

She snorted, not bothering to look at him. "Go amuse yourself elsewhere."

A moment later, she stiffened at the light sensation of fingers sliding through her hair. She instantly regretted not leaving it in the bun.

"That sounds awfully suggestive." She didn't miss the amusement that lined those words.

She pulled away, turning to find him almost leering down at her; his sneer wasn't helping dissuade her unease. "Don't touch me," she spat, her scowl strengthening as she shuffled to the other end of the couch.

He only grinned, revealing white teeth, and slid into the spot she'd just been. "Why thank you for keeping the seat warm for me." His lavender gaze was unwavering, set on her and nothing else. She couldn't help but squirm.

"Did-" Her voice cracked, much to her embarrassment. "Did you take creepy classes or does it just come naturally?"

"Now really, Ish. Is that the best you can come up with?" He laughed, inching closer to her. She only slid that much further along the couch. "Perhaps I should reduce myself to your level of wit." He cocked his head in a mocking manner. "Did you learn how to construct insults from Amara? Or did she simply show you how to conceal your fear?"

"That's not funny," she muttered, resorting to scowling at the wall again. Anything was better than looking at him.

"A liar will not be believed, even when he speaks the truth."

A'isha felt him slide closer again, and could feel his left leg against her right one. She couldn't move along the couch any more if she tried, but her stubbornness willed her to stay seated. She cleared her throat. "So you admit that you're a liar?"

"I bend the truth to suit my needs."

"Bending the truth and lying are pretty much the same thing."

She froze, a sickening feeling slithering through her as a distinctly firm hand-shaped warmth encircled her right wrist. "If you are correct in saying that bending the truth and lying are the same thing..." His thumb traced soft circles across her wrist. It only heightened the sickening unease that had been coursing through her since the second she saw him in the doorframe. "Then you must be terrified of me."

A'isha ground her teeth, staring him down as best she could...which apparently wasn't very well, considering that the damn smirk still lingered.

"Let. Go." She hurled the demand with perfect separation through her teeth.

"So you are afraid…" He chuckled darkly. "After all, if I'm a liar by your definition, then just how accurate are those minimal set of morals I claim to have?"

Her nails dug into the material of the couch beneath her. "I said. Let. Go."

"As you wish," Marik breathed, and A'isha was shocked, to say the least, when he actually listened and released her hand.

That feeling was short lived when he reached for her hair instead.

That was the last shake of the proverbial bottle. Fear overtaking pride, A'isha threw herself from the couch. "I said don't fucking touch m-"

The threat was caught in her throat as he reclaimed her wrist, jerking her back first against the raised end of the couch. In a cruel state of déjà vu, she soon found herself pinned beneath him on the couch. Sneering, Marik lips were a mere breath away from hers. "You were saying?"

"Get the hell off me!" A'isha screeched, beyond sick of finding herself in this very situation.

Again.

"Get off, you creepy, twisted, lying piece of-!"

Her words were cut short by a tanned finger upon her lips. He clucked his tongue, shaking his head as his eyes swam with mirth. "Language, Dear A'isha… surely you can think of better words to use…" His words grew softer, baiting a reaction. "Language like that is quite unbecoming of the fairer sex… of a woman." His chortle as he began to twist a strand of her hair around the finger with which he hushed her was almost as terrifying as the words that followed it. "At least, I assume that Dani has long since made you a woman." The truth must have been written all over her face, for the smirk he gave upon realising it was absolutely petrifying. "I see..." She shut her eyes desperately as she felt his free hand sliding south. "Perhaps we should rectify that now."

A'isha awoke with a start, her eyes flying open. Confusion racked her brain when the ceiling stared back at her, and not her captor.

"I hear that dreams are reality in waiting."

At those words, she all but tumbled from the couch, terror replacing confusion. That is, until she found Marik staring back at her from where he'd spread out on the second, smaller, one seater- possibly one and a half seater- couch in the room. She rolled her eyes slightly; of course he was smirking.

"I must say, considering how terrified you look right now, even I'm a little concerned." His attention shifted to the TV, where  _Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest_  was now playing. A'isha found herself confused further. She was sure she hadn't put the sequel on.

"How-" A'isha swallowed hard, freaking that she hadn't been dreaming just now. What if she just didn't remember the rest? What if he'd knocked her out with the rod or something? "How long have you been here?"

Marik glanced at the gold-coloured watch on his left wrist. "About twenty minutes."

"You have a TV in your room." She finally stood and then immediately dropped back onto the three seater couch. "So why use this one, in the room I just happen to be in?"

"Oh that wasn't a coincidence." He chuckled, threading his fingers together behind his head. "You said my name in your sleep." His smirk stretched the second she stiffened, her cheeks quickly going beet red. "I was curious and decided to stick around."

Her stomach squirmed. His answer did nothing to ease her nerves. In fact, it only begged the question... "Why the hell were you here to even hear me apparently say your name in my sleep?"

"To grab a DVD," he returned, arching a brow. His smirk was gone. "There really is no need to be concerned for your safety." He cocked his head to the left. "That is, unless you have reason to be after that dream of yours." His smirk re-emerged when she said nothing. "Now you're really making me curious as to what it entailed."

"None of your business!" she barked, knowing the speed of the retort was stupid.

"Is it really?" He paused and let his question hang, "You  _did_  say my name."

"Maybe I was strangling you in your sleep." She snorted. "Wouldn't be the first time I've imagined that."

"Your face betrays you. Literally." He chuckled before the damn smirk again made an appearance. "You look beyond embarrassed."

"Not. Funny." She could tell by the look on his face that he thought she'd had dream sex with him or something. That realisation was only soured furthermore by the fact he wasn't far from the truth. "I don't remember my dream, if I even had one." She looked away from him, instead glaring at the nearest wall. It only reminded her of the damn nightmare...not that she needed the additional reminder. "Just drop it."

"As you wish."

A'isha cringed the moment those words left his lips; he just had to go and unintentionally quote Dream Marik. At least she hoped it had been a dream. Now that she really thought about it - paranoia aside - that was probably, hopefully, the most likely scenario. After all, she'd been stressing about Marik's minimal set of morals since the moment she met him. She cringed again a few seconds later, but for a different reason. A stronger pain shot through her lower stomach. And this time, it didn't fade when she rubbed the sore spot. She suddenly felt sick.

"I..." Her hand flew to her mouth as she wretched and managed to muffle a mercifully dry heave. This was it. Great timing. "I'm..." Her eyes frantically scanned the room. She was nowhere near a bathroom, but she needed something – anything – to throw up in.

Marik seemed to be one step ahead of her, leaping to his feet to grab a fruit bowl from a nearby coffee table. With urgency, he tipped the fruit from the bowl, letting it scatter on the floor as he raced to her side. The second he shoved the bowl into her hands, she gagged again, then hurled up what she figured was half-digested pancakes. It was hard to tell. She groaned in self-pity, hating the universe for the fact she just had to throw up in front of Marik of all people. Though surprisingly, he'd actually helped her.

"Th-Thanks for the bowl," she muttered, not bothering to look up from it to meet his gaze. She could throw up again at any second. Not that throwing up on him would be the worst thing in the world...

"Thank Ra for my quick thinking," she heard him say. "That would've been a nightmare to get out of the carpet."

"Forget what I just said," she mumbled.  _You freaking asshole._ Still with the bowl in hand, A'isha started to straighten her posture when the boat rocked just enough for the bowl to slosh a smidge of its contents right onto Marik's shirt.  _Just when I thought this couldn't get any-_

"You did that on purpose." The words came far too calmly and when she met his glare, she almost wished it'd turned her to stone.

"It almost sounds like you know you deserve it." She sounded like death.

"I don't take even private humiliation lightly. I underestimated just how much you would deal when I shrugged off that very first minor assault." In that moment, the lighting was just enough where she could see the faint remnant of that bruise she left him with after punching him on their first meeting.

"You-" She stopped, suddenly feeling queasy all over again. She brought the bowl closer, cringing at the sour scent of bile, but to her relief the feeling faded a few seconds later. "You underestimated the consequences of kidnapping two teenage girls."

"Why didn't you call him?"

"Who?"

Marik sighed. "Never mind." His face twisted when he eyed his shirt. "Thanks to your lack of poise, I'm now in need of a shower."

"You deserved it."

He rolled his eyes, then she caught a golden flash from the corner of hers. The Millennium Rod was tucked under his belt, rather than in the strap sewn into his pants seemingly for the artifact. "I've called for Odion." He flashed a mocking smile, finding his feet. When he looked down at her, she felt it only made him appear that much more arrogant. "I'm sure your self proclaimed servant will have no qualms about helping you to your room - or rather - that box as you like to call it."

"You're punishing me for the dirty shirt by  _leaving_  me?"

"Oh I can assure you that I haven't forgotten about that." Her stomach churned for another reason, when his smirk grew. "I think you'll quite enjoy the punishment I have in mind." At those words, her mind immediately snapped back to that nightmare. She seriously doubted that whatever he had planned would be pleasant for her.

"What exactly is this punishment?"

"You'll find out come Wednesday." He laughed, turning his back on her to step over to the doorway. He spared a glance over his shoulder, lightly resting his hand on the door frame. "I imagine you'll be feeling a little less ill and a little more pleasant by then?"

 _A little more pleasant?_  The way he'd said that gave off the impression he knew exactly why she was-  _Oh that's right. Mother of Selfish told him to have fun dealing with my PMSing._

"Just go," she forced, before the urge to throw up returned once more. As she hurled into the bowl a second time, her misery was only heightened by an icy laugh and slowly fading steps. She really did hate his guts.


	16. Chapter 15: Rendezvous By The Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to meijosui from FanFiction.Net for letting us use her OC, Bryn. He's always dependable in a pinch. Also, just a reminder that Marik lied about his age and said he was twenty two. He's actually only fifteen, almost sixteen here. As usual, enjoy the reading! :)

**Chapter Fifteen: Rendezvous By The Sea**

The sun had set. A'isha could tell that much from where she embraced the toilet. Her head was slumped against the seat, but she was well beyond the point of even caring that hers and Amara's butts – possibly others – had previously occupied it.

Tears of self-pity snaked in rivers down her cheeks. It felt like someone had shoved a freshly sharpened dagger into her ovaries and was slowly, excruciatingly twisting it, each time sending an abrupt pulse of pain through her centre. And she just couldn't stop shaking, despite being temperate. That constant shaking only seemed to suck more energy from her already drained self.

Shortly after Marik had left her alone in that lounge, Odion had arrived with a bucket in hand, which he'd traded for the vomit-filled fruit bowl. After taking care of said bowl, he'd helped her walk to the bathroom attached to her bedroom, seeing as the cramps had become too sharp for her to walk unassisted. She should have felt pitiful at needing the help of one of Marik's lackeys, but something about Odion's calm presence kept her at ease. He'd heated up a hot water bottle for her and had left some pain killers on the nearby bench beside the sink. She planned on downing them once she stopped throwing up, which would hopefully be sooner rather than later. Odion had even provided her with a pillow to sit on to make her hugging session with the toilet a little less taxing on her knees. He had  _definitely_  made this whole ordeal a bit more bearable!

A'isha didn't miss the swish of a door from the bedroom. Loud steps soon followed. Odion had left the wall that connected the bathroom and the bedroom slid aside, and Ish imagined that if she did have the motivation to look, she would have seen Amara storming into their bedroom, no doubt with a sour look pasted on her face. A few seconds ticked by before she heard the spring of the bed and a loud huff. Of course Amara wanted to make sure her presence was known. Nothing new there.

A'isha sighed weakly as she stared at the toilet bowl and the traces of bile speckled throughout it. She was busy being miserable, spewing her guts out as World War III took place inside her uterus, and Amara still had to go and be a drama queen. Typical. It always had to be about her... just like her monster of a mother.

Only when A'isha chucked up for what felt like the millionth time, did Amara's graceless steps echo once more. She sounded very close when they ceased. Probably by the open wall that separated the two rooms.

"So you really  _were_  PMSing." She heard Amara snort. "Guess that's karma for being a bitch earlier today."

A'isha couldn't believe her cousin's lack of remorse. "Get lost!" she forced out, before spitting twice into the toilet bowl, then flushing it and reaching for some toilet paper to wipe her mouth.

"Hm. Hate that it's true?"

"It's not." A'isha dropped the vomit-stained tissue into the toilet bowl. "But as you can  _see_ ", she spared just enough strength to gesture to herself, and glared up at Amara, "I am  _not_  in the mood for your crap."

"Whatever," Amara grumbled, smacking the air with a dismissive hand. "That Odion guy said to tell you that after this Rare Hunter meeting he's going to, he's gonna bring us dinner." The scowl she'd worn warped into a haughty smile that bordered on arrogant. As if Marik's smirks weren't enough. "Guess I'm having yours though... which sucks for you 'cause he said it's not vegetable soup for once."

That was fine. Right now, she couldn't think of anything worse than eating. Well, that wasn't exactly true. There was always Mister High and Mighty. And Worst Aunt Ever. And that damn look still ridden across Amara's face.

"Can you just leave me alone?" The toilet bowl fell victim to A'isha's bitter stare, and she winced when a particularly sharp pain sliced through her torso, noticeably stronger than the constant cramps she'd endured all day. "Go find your boyfriend in progress instead of bothering me."

Amara scoffed. "Uhh. I can't," she said like it was obvious. "He's in that stupid meeting...  _Duh!_ "

"So go watch a movie or something."

Amara heaved a groan. "I'm sick of watching movies. That's all I've done today." Her bitter tone evaporated, replaced by thrilled anticipation as she continued, "But Jordan's coming to get me after that meeting. We're gonna go to his room to hang out and he's gonna show me his Duel Monsters cards."

"You hate card games."

"Well he doesn't need to know that!"

Unseen by her company, A'isha simply rolled her eyes. Of course Amara was pretending to show interest in some stupid card game just so Jordan would like her more. She snorted in her head, too drained and queasy to do so out loud, as she wondered if treating Marik with the same mindset would somehow persuade him to release them sooner. She doubted it. Not to mention she'd sooner sell her liver – or right now, her uterus – than act like she cared an iota about an egotistical creep like him.

"By the way," Amara drawled, suddenly sounding curious, "did you throw up on Marik?"

A'isha straightened a little at that, blushing madly. "Indirectly!" she shrieked, perplexed as to how Mar had found out that little detail. Hopefully not through word of mouth – partially due to embarrassment, but mostly because she doubted Marik would appreciate such a rumour spreading through his employ. It didn't take a genius to know he demanded respect from his Rare Hunters.

"What? So you just tripped and vomited on his shirt?" Amara didn't sound convinced.

"More or less," A'isha grumbled. "It was an accident."  _Even if deep down, it had been a little bit satisfying to see my vomit on his shirt... amid the fear and humiliation._

"Well accident or not, he looked pretty pissed when I saw him." Oh good. So she saw him, rather than hearing about that awkward incident from someone else. As long as Amara didn't open her big mouth and start the rumour, at least Ish didn't have to worry about Marik having another reason to be a jerk to her. Not that any of his reasons were all that valid.

"If Marik would just learn to leave me alone, that wouldn't have happened." She ignored the fact that, had he not been there, she probably would have thrown up all over his carpet. That definitely would have done her no favours.

"Why is he even paying so much attention to you?" Surprisingly, the question seemed genuine rather than bitter. "I mean, he walked past me like I didn't even exist back in the hallway. I doubt he would've done that to you."

A'isha barely managed a shrug.  _If he was already pissed, you would've just made it worse anyway,_  she thought, but knew better than to voice it.  _Not to mention he finds my defiance amusing... Mar is just a puppet to him._  At least, she assumed that's how Marik viewed them. But who was she to decipher the inner workings of a psychopath's mind? He clearly didn't think like a normal person. No sane person would do the things he'd done to her and others and continued to do, and all with a damn smirk on his face.

"Does he have, like, a weird crush on you or something?" A'isha dry gagged, and this time she blamed the disgusting question rather than her endometriosis. Amara ignored her cousin's wretching, instead continuing to speak as though thinking aloud; "Like... He actually wants to talk to you and he's always teasing you, at least from what I've seen. Kinda reminds me of you and Dani. How you're always giving each other grief and-"

"Can you  _not_?"

"Not what?"

A'isha groaned in self pity. "Talk about Marik! I'm throwing up enough as it is."

Amara slumped against a nearby wall, once again ignoring any and all requests A'isha had thrown her way since her arrival, instead continuing to talk about their captor. "Well if he  _does_  like you, then at least he's a hot guy around our age and not some fifty year old creeper."

"Twenty two-" She paused, choking out another dry heave "-is nowhere near close to our age." She glowered at the toilet bowl. "And he definitely doesn't have a crush on me."

"Hm. If he hadn't kidnapped us and if I hadn't met Jordan, I might almost be disappointed by his age- even if it's not  _that_   _bad_  of an age gap."

A'isha said nothing, hardly wanting to encourage a conversation topic that involved Marik's looks or how eligible Mar viewed him from a dating perspective. Gross!

Maybe half a minute passed before Amara seemed to lose interest. "Well..." She found her feet. "I'm gonna go. I swear I can kinda smell your vomit in here." The sound of retreating steps faded, then the squeak of the bed spring met Ish's ears. Maybe there was a positive side to her spewing her guts out: deterring Amara from bothering her for too long. Now that she thought about it, Marik hadn't bothered her since her period reared its annoyingly painful head her way too. Perhaps this curse was just a blessing in disguise? At this point, anything was better than dealing with him.

A few minutes later, her cramps suddenly felt a heck of a lot stronger. It was at that moment that A'isha realised that prior conversation, as frustrating as it had been, had actually somewhat distracted her from the agony that was her monthly visitor. But at least she didn't feel nauseous any more.

Another ten minutes ticked on by when A'isha heard Jordan knock at the door, stealing Amara's company. A'isha didn't mind one bit. It only blessed her with some much needed peace and quiet, and freed up the bed for her to finally try to get some sleep. After all, she'd barely managed three or four hours sleep the previous night, thanks to the early wake up call from Sir Jerk-A-Lot.

A'isha crawled, basically dragged, herself along the tiled floor. Using the bench with a built in sink, she pulled herself to her feet, wincing as the movement amplified her cramps. After downing two pain killers, silently thanking Odion as she did, A'isha focused on stepping over to the exit that led to her room, using the wall at her side for support.

Pain was screaming for her to crawl to the bed across the room, but she refused to succumb to it. She would  _not_  crawl beneath the camera's ever watching gaze. She would  _not_  give Marik the satisfaction of seeing her looking so weak and feeble...though was it really that satisfying for him to see her so miserable when he wasn't responsible for it? Maybe that was why he wasn't bothering her? She wasn't exactly very scintillating taunting material right now.

Struggling over to the bed, A'isha all but collapsed onto it, noting that Odion had left a bucket by the bed just in case. She sighed, too drained to even bother to slide under the bed sheets as she curled up into the fetal position. She vaguely registered a knock, then the creak of the door and a gentle whisper she recognised as Odion's. Probably bringing dinner like Mar had mentioned he would. Ish was half awake and too tired to answer, which was likely why the door slid shut again a few seconds later. Only when the pain killers began to kick in, maybe half an hour later, did A'isha finally drift off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The click of a door declared that Marik was now alone in his Throne Room. He sighed, sliding the mauve sleeve of his cloak up his arm to reveal a gold wrist watch. Eight o'clock exactly. Dinner would be waiting for him. But there was another matter that required his attention first.

Marik swept from his golden throne, his steps echoing across the barren room as he headed for the exit. He took a left once he stepped through it, then a right and another left, soon coming face to face with a plain wooden door that looked no different to any other aboard his vessel. Not bothering to knock, he swung it aside to reveal a young boy, no older than thirteen, garbed in a cloak much like his own. The room was small, littered with screens left, right and centre. It was the camera room, after all.

"Master Marik!" the boy said in an Irish accent; his father was from Ireland, his mother was Nepalese, and Marik had noticed the boy's Irish accent became very apparent when he was nervous or frustrated. The Hunter rushed from the desk chair to his feet, offering a slight bow of respect.

Marik simply nodded, to which his Rare Hunter reclaimed his seat a moment later. Marik couldn't help but detect the slight unease about his servant, whose attention had shifted to a particular screen on his right.

Marik's lavender eyes travelled to that same screen, where he noticed a live version of Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing In The Dark" was quietly playing. He merely rolled his eyes, deciding against punishing the boy called Bryn purely because he was one of his more capable Hunters, always getting the job done with more than satisfying results. He was trustworthy too, which was why, after one of Marik's servants had had the gall to try to rape his more stubborn captive, he had tasked Bryn with manning the camera room. Bryn and Jordan rotated shifts, though the room wasn't always manned anyway.

"Tell me, Bryn," Marik began, a slight smirk sliding across his lips as his fingers threaded together behind his back. "How is my little captive doing?"

"Which one, Sir?"

"I think we both know which one truly fits the description." Marik snorted. "Little Amara seems to be quite happy gallivanting around with Jordan." His sights settled on one screen in particular, displaying an image of a room he recognised. It was currently unoccupied.

Bryn spun on his seat to face the same screen. "Speaking of Amara and Jordan, he actually just stopped by her room a minute ago." He shrugged. "Something about showing her his Duel Monsters cards."

Marik arched a brow, "And what of A'isha?"

"She's been in the bathroom all day." Bryn looked like he was biting back laughter. "Now let me tell you, she does  _not_  like her cousin. I kind of feel sorry for her, having to put up with such a-" He paused, as they both noticed movement on the screen. They watched as A'isha stumbled into her bedroom, hunched over as she struggled to reach her bed. "I am  _so_ glad I was born a dude."

Marik chuckled when she slumped onto the bed quite unceremoniously.  _Dear A'isha is barely able to stand._  His smirk faltered somewhat.  _How unfortunate it is that she isn't all that amusing as far as baiting goes presently._

Sighing, he withdrew a small sheet of paper from his cloak pocket, focusing on his other reason for coming here. "Here, Bryn," he voiced, handing it to the boy who arched a curious brow.

"What is this?"

"A time and an address, so to speak." His eyes narrowed slightly, a minor amount of frustration weaselling its way into his mind as he continued; "I am sure you are already aware of my meeting with that vexing little bird on Wednesday?"

Bryn nodded twice. "I sure am, Sir."

"Well, after that meeting, A'isha and I will be taking a little...excursion." His smirk returned, this time brought forth by anticipation. "And come Wednesday evening, I expect you to personally see to it that Dear A'isha is brought to this location safe and sound." Bryn coolly took the sheet of paper, to which Marik's hand dropped to his side. "I will already be at there, awaiting your arrival."

Bryn slid the paper into his own cloak pocket. "I'll make sure A'isha gets to you safely, Master Marik."

Marik's smirk grew as he headed for the exit. "Of course you will, Bryn." He glanced over his shoulder at the boy. "Why do you think I chose you for this task?"

* * *

The next day and a half of A'isha's life consisted of sleeping, several trips to the bathroom, more sleeping, barely keeping down the occasional slice of bread, another round of sleeping, pain killers, a few catnaps amid tossing and turning, some wallowing in self pity and – wait for it – even  _more_  sleeping.

When she woke up late on Wednesday, A'isha felt somewhat refreshed and energetic. At least, she did when compared to the hell that had been the last two days of her life. Though was it really all that hellish? She hadn't seen Marik since that encounter in the lounge, after that horrific nightmare in which she could only assume he'd been about to rape her. Why had her mind thrown such a terrifying curve ball her way? As if he wasn't enough of a creep in real life!

Come to think of it, after reminding herself of that dream, A'isha surmised that she was particularly relieved that he'd left her alone these past two days, as facing him after having such a dodgy dream about him sounded like another form of hell in itself.

A'isha was relieved to be on her feet, with newly restored energy and the absence of cramps. Even if her period wasn't over, at least the worst of it was. She took a lengthy shower that was long overdue, after which she changed her tampon, dressed in baggy clothes that had become the norm, and headed for the kitchen. She was worried she'd run into Marik, but her nerves were stifled by the prospect of a more substantial meal.

As she stepped into the kitchen, A'isha noticed a fair few Rare Hunters were scattered at tables about the room. It was well into the afternoon, so A'isha had hoped the room would be empty. She was rather disappointed; though thankfully, with the exception of a glance here and there, none of Marik's man harem really seemed to acknowledge her existence. Some were snacking or sipping a drink, others were on their phone or some other electronic device, and one guy was reading. They must have been on break – Marik actually gave them breaks?

Shoving that thought aside, A'isha wandered over to the fridge. Upon opening it, she was more than a little excited to find a container full of pasta. It looked vegetarian – full of broccoli, capsicum, courgette and cherry tomatoes – but at least it also looked cheesy. "Thank the gods!" she quietly said to herself. "Something besides that cruddy soup!" She dished out a rather generous serving, reasoning that she hadn't eaten much in two days.

The hum of the microwave was distant to A'isha's ears as she leaned against the bench, her blue eyes wandering about the combined kitchen and dining area. She subconsciously eavesdropped on one guy's conversation with someone on the phone. It sounded like he was apologising to his girlfriend, saying his business trip had gone on for far longer than expected and that, no, he wasn't cheating on her. She rolled her eyes at the obvious lie; well, at least she figured the first part was a lie, considering he wasn't exactly on what A'isha would call a business trip. As for the second part, who knew if he was cheating.

A'isha paused, abandoning her eavesdropping as something caught her eye; a glimpse of green beyond the wide window to her right. Her features crinkled into a look of curiosity. She barely registered the shrill beep of the microwave as she headed over to the window and peered outside.

Land. They were near land. Anchored off the coast of some bay with white sand and turquoise water. High cliffs loomed over the vessel, shielding it from the sun's warmth and casting them in shadows. Past the beach, she could see a mix of shrubs and small trees painted the land a variety of green shades. Wherever they were, it seemed secluded. Perhaps they had anchored off the coast of some uninhabited island...or at least in a bay that fit that description, even if the land mass as a whole was not uninhabited. The Rare Hunters didn't exactly want to be found, so that would make sense. But where they were exactly, she couldn't be sure. There were over a thousand islands in the Mediterranean Sea; they could currently be anchored near any of them. Or it could even be the mainland.

"You're up!" a bubbly voice basically sung.

A'isha spun on her heel to find Amara near the entrance with Jordan at her side.

Amara dashed over to tackle her in a tight hug. Apparently the girl had forgotten that she was angry at her. But then again, that was normal for her cousin. "We've been looking everywhere for you!" She paused to look at the brunette boy who was now behind her. "Well- Jordan's been looking for you. He, uhh..."

Ish did  _not_  like the concern that had suddenly swept across Mar's face. "He what?" she slowly said, arching a brow.

Amara rushed over to and behind Jordan, only to shove him in A'isha's general direction. "Tell her, Jordy!" she whispered, unaware of the many Rare Hunters now eavesdropping on  _their_  conversation; A'isha, on the other hand, was painfully aware of that fact. "Because I am  _not_  about to be the bearer of bad news. And, y'know, he told  _you_  to tell her. Not  _me_!"

A'isha  _really_  didn't like where this was going.  _He_ told Jordan to tell her something? There was only one person this 'he' could be... "Tell me what?" she quietly asked them, sparing glances at the Rare Hunters. She rolled her eyes upon finding they were hardly even pretending to not listen. She had a feeling they knew something she didn't...just like Amara and her boyfriend in progress – or was he her boyfriend at this stage?

Jordan briefly bit his lip. "I, uhh-" The brazen beep of the microwave interrupted him, and reminded A'isha that her pasta was waiting. "Oh. You should probably eat before-"

"Jordan!" A'isha barked, narrowly resisting the urge to slap her hand against the bench beside her. She was many things, but patient wasn't one of them. Especially after the last few days she'd had. "Just tell me!"

"Okay! Okay!" Jordan held his hands up defensively. He heaved a sigh before his next words; "Master Marik... He, uhh, has gone ashore."

A'isha cocked a brow. "And that's...bad?" There must've been more to it than that.

"He's gone ashore and...well. He-" Jordan cleared his throat. "He told me to tell you to pack."

A'isha went rigid, getting a sense of where this conversation was heading. Fear-filled denial was the only thing keeping her from losing any and all composure. "To... pack?"

Jordan swallowed hard. "Y-Yeah." His voice cracked. "You need to pack enough to last you till Sunday."

With wide eyes, A'isha glanced at the mass of land out the window, then back at Jordan. "We're...leaving the boat?"

"Uhh..." His eyes snapped about the room, refusing to meet her perplexed and petrified gaze. "N-No. A'isha, I'm sorry but..." His eyes met hers. " _You're_  leaving the boat. You and Master Marik. Just the two of you... until Sunday."

"I'm so sorry, Ish!" Amara suddenly cried out, looking a mere hair away from breaking down into tears. She side stepped Jordan, rushing in front of him to wrap her arms tightly around her older cousin. "Marik showed up at Jordan's room and he told him to tell you. I tried to butt in and say this was horse crap but he was all like 'Foolish girl!' Bla bla! 'This is none of your concern!' Bla ble ba! 'Don't interfere!' Yadda ya!" She bit back a shaky sob as she continued; "Then I told him to go tell you himself – that it's not fair on Jordan – and he said he tried but you were asleep so he just left a suitcase in the closet and he was all like 'I didn't want to wake her; she'll need the energy tonight!' and I was all like 'What the hell do you mean by  _that_?! Don't you dare touch her, you super creep!' and he just laughed that creepy laugh, threw that phallic symbol golden rod stick thing of his around and-"

"I think I get the picture, Mar!" A'isha shrieked, covering the blabbing girl's mouth as her gaze shifted to the Rare Hunters that, at this point, were blatantly watching the drama unfold. No doubt their breaks were rarely this interesting. This was just humiliating.

A'isha struggled to conceal the nerves that had twisted her features, forming a sickening knot in her stomach. She felt sick. Simply sick. She only wished her monthly visitor had been responsible for it. That was when it hit her; Mister High and Mighty had said she'd find out her "punishment" on Wednesday for getting vomit on him the other day. This must have been it. At least, she  _hoped_ this was it, and that he hadn't been implying anything when he'd said to Amara that she'd "need her energy for tonight". A'isha figured – hoped – he had merely been riling up her cousin. It's not like he'd been able to rile  _her_ up these past two days, so he was probably just looking elsewhere for a reaction to amuse him. That thought only raised her despair another notch, realisation whispering in her ear that he had two whole days of pestering to catch up on. And four days to do it.

Oh, this was going to be torture. Absolute torture. And perhaps the worst thing of all was that A'isha  _knew_  there was absolutely nothing she could do to get out of it.

* * *

The strong scent of salt tickled his nose. The faint swish of the waves met his ears. The sharp sound of metal on wood sliced through the tranquillity. He glanced over his shoulder, where a modestly sized boat floated patiently upon the smooth surface of the brilliantly blue sea. It was one of his less glamorous modes of transportation, though admittedly it was better than that sidecar he sometimes used when Odion manned the motorbike. The boat was tied to the sturdy, wooden wharf on which they stood and, every so often, a fairly sizeable swell would rock it against the wharf, emitting an abrupt bang that made him cringe.

His lavender eyes dropped to his wristwatch, then narrowed as a growl rumbled in his throat. "That vexing little bird," he hissed, glancing to his right at Odion. "She's making us wait intentionally." He examined his second-in-command. The man was clad in a generic, button up island shirt, paired with full length cargo pants and steel capped leather boots. "And again, Odion, why did you have to wear such a ridiculous shirt?"

Odion simply shrugged, though Marik translated the action to mean "the location called for it".

Marik rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. He, on the other hand, had opted for a plain white tank top and fairly loose jeans, with similar shoes to his company; despite the fairly warm weather, he wasn't a fan of shorts, not to mention he was used to the heat. So was Odion. Wearing their Rare Hunter cloaks was out of the question, as the attire would only draw uninvited attention... Not that Odion's horrendous shirt wouldn't accomplish the same thing.

The sudden snarl of far off motorcycles tore him from his brooding. It sounded like two. He scanned the area, paying a particularly close eye to the nearby dirt road that ended where the wharf began, only a metre from where he and Odion currently stood. The road, if he could really call it that, carved through the land between the lush, green hills. The bikes were rapidly approaching, their hushed snarls quickly growing into ferocious roars.

A few seconds later, a sleek motorbike hissed over the crest of a nearby hill, now within sight. Another was close in tow. They sped down the slope, where the second began to ease to a stop. The first, however, kept going until, only ten metres away, its driver did a seven hundred and twenty degree spin, then skidded to a stop merely a metre away from Marik and Odion. The show off. A moment later, the second motorcyclist came to a stop a few metres away.

Marik's eyes narrowed on the first cyclist who, in one fluid motion, had used her foot to push out the motorbike stand. Then she slid from the vehicle with unquestionable poise. Marik briefly noticed she'd traded out her all-black, form fitting gear for an emerald green tank top, snug fitting black capris and ebony ankle boots. A silver helmet hid her face, not that he'd ever seen it, but he knew it was Benu.

A light, feminine chuckle shook her shoulders as, much to Marik's complete and utter surprise, she removed her helmet, revealing a face he hadn't expected in this line of work. She was beyond attractive, perhaps of Greek or French descent, with exotic features, olive skin and straight, chocolate brown locks that reached as far as her waist. Even more startlingly, her eyes were a bright shade of emerald. The hazel hue he'd seen during their previous encounters – the rest of her face having been hidden behind a balaclava – must have been courtesy of contacts, or vice versa.

"That, Dear Mister R.H., is how you ride a motorcycle." Her full lips parted into a coy smirk as she savoured his reaction to the fact she'd just so willingly revealed her face to him. "Don't get too excited, Big Boy." She winked, tossing her helmet over the handle bar. Her sight shifted to Odion. "Hey, Bald Ninja Extraordinaire." She used the nickname she'd given the man upon her first encounter with him. "Nice shirt." Another laugh left her lips, the sound like silk. "I'm sure Sahin agrees," she stated, gesturing toward the second motorcyclist, who had parked his bike and come to a standstill just behind her.

Having removed his helmet, Marik was able to put a face to his name too. He was a burly, pale-skinned man – perhaps in his mid forties – with shaggy brown hair the same shade as Benu's. His eyes were steel grey, though Marik detected a warmth swimming within their depths. Then he made note of Sahin's shirt; a button up island shirt, the pattern literally identical to Odion's. He realised what Benu had meant when she'd said "nice shirt". Typical. Just typical.

"Enough with the pleasantries, Benu," Marik hissed, stepping between her and his brother. "You made it quite clear on the phone that you'd escort us to the location of Zera The Mant and Zera Ritual. So take us to them."

To his chagrin, Benu wasn't at all fazed. In fact, she snorted in amusement. "Keep your shirt on, Blondie." Her smirk only grew as her right hand found her chin. "Well, I'd advise against taking it off." She shrugged. "But I won't stop you. Whatever floats your boat." She glanced at his mode of transport to shore, still tied to the wharf. "As modest as that boat may be." She chuckled, casually toying with a strand of her hair. "Didn't want to reveal the location of your far more fancy boat, huh?" Benu released that same strand of hair, allowing it to fall back into place. She cocked a curious brow. "By the way, where's your girlfriend? I'm itching to meet her... unless that voice on the phone was a lie and the only girlfriend you've ever known is still the palm of your han-"

"I repeat, little Benu," Marik spat through clenched teeth, closing any and all distance between them. The fact that her smirk remained only heightened his frustration. "Show me where Zera is."

"My my my," Benu murmured, her eyes full of mock-laden laughter. "With a short fuse like that, you  _must_  have a girlfriend nearby who's driving you mad... _der_." She faked a pout. "Did the two of you have a fight?"

"Miss Benu..." came the slightly stern voice of Sahin. She spared a two second glance over her shoulder, meeting her second-in-command's gentle gaze.

When Benu looked Marik and Odion's way once more, she didn't look the least bit fazed by Sahin's address. "I almost forgot we're on a tight schedule." She smoothly spun on her heel, lifting up the seat on her bike to reveal a sizeable compartment. "Sahin has a friend here who has those two all mighty children's trading cards that you seek. We  _will_  take you to him personally. Sahin has another engagement with him anyway." She withdrew a second silver helmet from that compartment and tossed it to Marik. She smiled when he sent a disapproving look her way. "Yes, Marik; you're riding with me." She snorted snidely. "Unless you'd rather take Odion's place and snuggle with Stone Cold Sahin over there." She cocked her head in her colleague's direction; he was currently retrieving a helmet for Odion from the same compartment on his own bike.

"I'd rather another means of transport," Marik muttered, scowling at the helmet in his hands.

"Seriously, Blondie. You don't see Bald Ninja complaining. Stop being a whiny teenager and deal with it." She snickered to herself. "I bet you'd have no qualms about throwing your  _girlfriend_  in the same position that I'm throwing you in. Actually, knowing you, Marik, you'd have a field day."

Marik's eyes narrowed to slits on Benu as he grudgingly began to buckle up his helmet. "Just how much do you know about my girlfriend, Dear Benu?" He arched a brow as if to back up the query.

"Just like you, I never give all the answers." She grinned, suavely sliding back onto her bike and tucking away the stand. "And just like you, I've never been a fan of ignorance."

Marik finally revealed a sneer. "Are you jealous, little Benu?"

"Ha! You wish!" Marik could tell she was being serious, and wasn't the least bit flustered by the accusation. She nodded her head toward the empty space behind her. "Hop on, Blondie."

Marik fought against the desire to reveal just how distasteful the demeaning position Benu had thrown him into was to him. Instead, he took the spot behind her, threading his fingers around her waist. Unless the sidecar counted, he was by no means used to being the passenger on a motorcycle. And he was definitely not a fan of it either. He despised not feeling in control. Marik knew that was partially why Benu was doing this to him, and that infuriating realisation only hounded his mind as they raced off along the dirt road towards the hill, with Odion and Sahin close in tow.

* * *

"-and you might catch him looking at you when he thinks you're looking away. Or if he leans towards you whenever you are sitting close to each other. Oh and there's—"

A'isha rolled her eyes, having heard Amara's "Fifty Signs He Likes You List" so many times she could basically recite it herself. In fact, maybe a year ago, A'isha had proven that she could do just that to a semi-skeptical Julie.

"He maintains eye contact with youuu," A'isha quietly mocked her cousin, biting back laughter at the oblivious girl reclining on the lone bed in their room. "He finds an excuse to  _touch_  you whenever he has the chaaance. And showers you with gifts to buy your looove. He says or behaves like he  _misses_  you whenever you're away from one another for some  _agonising_  amount of time."

To her relief, A'isha was highly trained in the art of zoning out as far as her cousin's incessant rambling went. But unfortunately, it was a little harder to do that when Amara's blabbering at all involved Marik. It was easier to just join in and make a joke out of it. In this case, Mar was busy trying to 'prepare her' for the next four days she'd spend alone with Mister Manipulative, as Mar had so fittingly dubbed him at some stage amid her incessant rambling.

"He gets nervous around youuuu," A'isha drawled, tossing one last plastic bag into the suitcase Marik had left in the closet. The suitcase was big enough to fit everything she had on his slave ship, so she figured the most logical way to pack was to take everything she'd acquired back in Marina. Well, everything bar the orange shirt her captor had bought her after seeing her eyeing it up at the store. There was no way she'd ever wear the thing...even if it was pretty and right up her alley. She just  _knew_  he would never let her live it down if she  _did_  wear it. And he'd bought it as a gift for her in the first place. No thanks.

"And when he  _does_  catch you looking when he already is, he looks away all embarrassed," she quietly mimicked.

A'isha slammed the suitcase shut and roughly zipped it up. Mocking her clueless cousin was the only thing distracting her from the reason for her packing...though it didn't really seem to be working, considering the bitter thoughts that still swirled about in her head amid her hushed mocking of Amara's list.

Her distaste at her impending 'predicament' – and the use of that word was putting it lightly – was evident in her body language. She'd have to remedy that once she came face to face with the jerk, seeing as he'd only find her that much more amusing. Though really, at this point did she even care if he knew she was beyond repulsed whenever in his presence? She felt mentally and physically drained at the mere thought of being so bitter for four whole days. But she couldn't help it if he brought out that side of her, as strenuous as it was to keep up her pride-driven defiance. She had to make sure he knew that she detested him for everything he'd done to her and her cousin!

A'isha shook her head, steering back on track by continuing to mimick Mar. "He stalks your Facebook account because he has nothing better to do with his life." Okay, so now she was just full blown butchering Amara's list. Though she  _had_  made it to the forty ninth sign on it before doing so. That had to count for something.

"Aaaand reason number fifty and Mar's personal favourite sign he likes you iiiis..."

"He just loves to shock you." A'isha stiffened at the grated, yet unsettling still-gushing tone of Amara's voice laced with Marik's. Her eyes snapped to the bed to find the younger girl was now sitting at its edge, rather than reclining into the thin pillows. It was the first time since Sunday that she'd seen her cousin's hazel eyes looking so empty, while an ominous eye burned brightly upon her forehead. "Whether he shocks you by, like, telling you how amazingly beautiful you are to hiiim. Or by, like, surprising you with a super adorable daaate. Or even just with an unexpected huuug right when you need it!"

A'isha was slack jawed and wide eyed as she stared at her now mind-controlled cousin.

"You look shocked, Dear A'isha."

A'isha blinked twice, fighting the blush that burned her cheeks. Yes, she was one hundred percent shocked...but sure as heck not the good kind! "Leave Amara alone!" she barked, her fury fevered by the fact Amara was now aware of Marik's usurps on her mind. What if she was aware of it right now, while he had control? She'd be utterly terrified! And if Mar wasn't aware of it, she soon would be, as she now knew that Marik's use of the Millennium Rod was responsible for her 'black outs'.

Amara gave a light chuckle, an infuriating half-smirk inching onto her countenance. "I would have graced you with my presence in person." Her blank stare shifted to A'isha's suitcase. "However, as you are aware, I am currently ashore and unfortunately unable to do so." Mar's smirk stretched, raising Ish's fury another note. "Though, as you are no doubt also aware, I will be gracing you with my presence for the next four days." Amara's smirk was ridiculous, screaming out just how excited Marik was for their 'excursion'. A'isha's face, on the other hand, morphed into a look of total disdain.

"What are you playing at, Marik?" Her eyes narrowed to slits. "I agreed to be your fake fiancée on Sunday, not to go gallivanting off alone with you for four whole days!"

"Then consider this." Amara's head cocked to the right. "This little trip of ours is directly related to the proposition."

She glared at her mind-controlled cousin mistrustfully. "How's that?"

"That shopping spree of yours cut into our travel time, and I am rather concerned that we will not reach the proposition's destination in time for it." A'isha was sure that somewhere Marik was laughing at the fact her current predicament was able to be blamed on her request for a shopping spree. "To ensure that we will, in fact, be there on time, I have arranged for a private plane to fly us there."

"And where exactly is the proposition taking place?"

Amara's smirk hadn't swayed in the slightest as Marik answered that very question; "Catania in Italy."

A'isha went rigid, her stomach somersaulting and thrusting another bout of nausea her way. Catania... Home to Europe's highest volcano, Mount Etna. Dani's parents enjoyed hiking, and she'd joined them and her boyfriend on a trip there only a couple of months ago, where they'd hiked up the mammoth mountain among other touristy things. She hoped against hope that her face wasn't betraying her right now by revealing that the proposition's location actually  _meant_  something to her.

"You seem to have overlooked that bag while packing for our lovely excursion," Marik seized her attention, and she noticed him eyeing through hazel irises the plastic bag that contained the orange shirt he'd bought her. She'd dumped it in one corner of the sparsely furnished room. Well, maybe  _hurled it towards_  was a more apt description of how it had come to be in that corner.

"You don't seriously think I overlooked i-"

"I suggest that you pack it," controlled Amara bluntly sliced through her words.

"Why should I?" she basically shrieked, stubbornly twisting her arms across her chest.

"You're deliberately avoiding it."

"No duh, Sherlock."

"I insist that you bring it."

"I'd sooner burn it."

"I've missed you," he said with a chuckle, the grated sound bordering on creepier than Marik's alone. Especially following that phrase.

A'isha pursed her lips as it dawned on her that she was only playing right into his hands, falling for his attempts at drawing a reaction out of her. Stubbornness taking hold of her weary mind, she turned away from her cousin, sending a sour scowl at her suitcase. "I'm not taking the shirt and nothing you say will change my mind." She was sadly aware that something he might do, like control her mind for instance, could certainly accomplish such a thing. However, she doubted he'd waste his energy on such a trivial matter...setting aside the fact she didn't know him well at all.

"Very well." A'isha was surprised by his blunt acceptance. "My Rare Hunter, Bryn, will be delivering you to me." She barely bit back a scoff at the use of the word 'delivering', like she was some meagre object and not a living, breathing human-being! "You are to meet him at the back of the launch, one level below the garage, in ten minutes." Amara snickered lightly. "I suggest you at least  _try_  to be civil to the boy."

A'isha sent a glare her smirking cousin's way. "Unlike you, being civil is something I am more than capable of."

"I'd love to see that," he goaded.

"Never in a million years." A frown weighed down her lips. "Now get lost. I'd rather not leave Amara alone to deal with the fact you've used that horrible stick on her again."

"Hm. As you wish, Dear A'isha."

A'isha winced at the address, not that she was given much time to stew on it. Amara's body went slack, and Ish only managed to catch her when she was half way to meeting the marble floor.

As she pulled Amara into a horizontal position upon the single bed and situated herself at one edge, A'isha wanted nothing more than to wring that psycho nutcase's gold-clad neck. How did someone capable of invading someone's mind actually exist? Rhetorical question, of course. The world was full of horrible people, just as it was full of good people... but that didn't mean she wasn't utterly appalled by Marik's nonchalance around using the Millennium Rod on whoever the heck he wanted. It disgusted her almost as much as the reality she'd be spending the next few days alone with him. She tried to shove such thoughts from her mind, citing that they'd do nothing to make her feel better. That was easier said than done though.

"Ish?" came Amara's meek whisper from beside her on the bed.

When A'isha looked her cousin's way, she was sure her heart would break at the sight; Amara looked a hair away from shattering, about to become an inconsolable mess. And she couldn't even stick around to support her.

"I...I blacked out again." Her voice cracked. "He- He used the rod on me, didn't he?"

"I'm so sorry, Mar," she whispered, giving her hand a gentle squeeze of sympathy-fuelled reassurance. The only silver lining A'isha could find at this point was that Amara hadn't been conscious  _during_ the usurp on her mind. Well, there was one other positive her cousin could rely on; "At least, with me gone, he won't see a reason to use it on you for the next four days," she said, knowing the line sounded stupid. "You can hang out with Jordan and-"

"And you'll be alone with him."

"Remember what I said the other day, Mar?" She sighed, her brows furrowing as she continued; "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"But he said you'd need your energy for tonight and-"

"He said what he knew would get a reaction out of you. That's all." She hoped.

"But still, you're going to be alone with the leader of the Rare Hunters!" Amara straightened on the bed, her bottom lip quivering as she battled tears that threatened to show. "Do you remember all the times dad ranted on about The R.H. and how he and his Rare Hunters are despicable and deserve to rot in jail and-"

"Of course I do, Mar." A'isha sighed again as she nervously toyed with the thin sheet beneath her. "And one day I'm sure they will." Or perhaps that was wishful thinking. "But right now, we have no control. I have to go with him. Like,  _now_... I'm meant to meet one of his lackeys in about five minutes at the back of the boat." Her blue irises met her cousin's. She squeezed Amara's hand once more. "Just promise me you'll stay close to Jordan and Odion? They're the only two Rare Hunters here that I actually sort of trust and I need you to do everything you can to be safe while I'm gone."

Suddenly, A'isha gasped, winded as Amara tackled her in a strong hug. A shaky sob met her ears. Then another. And another. "Please be careful, Ish!" Amara whispered shakily. "If he hurts you or- or worse... I don't know what I'd do!"

A'isha had to bite back tears of her own as she gently returned the hug. "I'll be fine, Mar," she whispered softly. "Everything will be fine." And yet, she couldn't deny the doubt that slithered its way into the deepest recesses of her mind.


	17. Chapter 16: Hillside Psychology

**Chapter Sixteen: Hillside Psychology**

A'isha didn't need a watch to know she was late. But she had refused to leave Amara in such a sorry state. Marik could wait till the end of time and punish her all he liked – well, maybe not the latter. She was more than a little worried by the potential consequences of making him wait, but as her friends always loved to remind her, she cares too much.

Which was why A'isha reached the back of the boat – she thought – five or so minutes late. She rolled her suitcase along behind her. The faint  _slap_  of the water lapping against the edge of the ship was distant to her ears. Instead, she caught herself focusing on the dull grating sound of the suitcase wheels against the exterior deck of the vessel, which only reminded her of the airport and, by extension, her semi-recent trip to Catania with Dani's family.

Heaving a solemn sigh, A'isha slowed, confused as she scanned the deck to find she was alone. She couldn't help but shiver as the cool ocean breeze breathed a sigh across her skin. Sadly, the black and white horizontally striped tank top, bright red skinny jeans and charcoal-coloured chucks weren't cutting it as far as warmth went right now. She sighed, making a mental note to retrieve a jacket from her suitcase once she was on the smaller boat.

A window no longer separated her from the towering cliffs and deep green landscape in the middle distance and she had to admit, the mere sight of land was refreshing after being stuck on this hunk of metal since Saturday, with only that one trip to Marina to maintain her sanity. At least she'd be on land for the next few days, even if she  _would_  be stuck with Mister Manipulative the whole time.

A'isha couldn't resist a small smile despite the disheartening thoughts. Wherever they were, it was beautiful. Particularly against the majestic glow of dusk. A vibrant hue of orange lined the horizon, trying and failing to dance away the darkness that slowly dominated the atmosphere.

The abrupt  _clunk_  of water lapping against something stole her attention. She realised that something was a small boat floating nearby, tied to the back of the ship she was currently on. Probably her ride to wherever this private plane was.

Where was this Bryn guy? Not that she was complaining. The longer she waited, the less time she'd be stuck with Marik... and he might be less inclined to punish her for being late if she wasn't exactly responsible for it.

A'isha straightened slightly when rushed steps sliced through the serene silence of the sea. She turned half a circle to find a young boy dashing towards her, with a hefty-looking duffle bag in each hand. She narrowly hid her semi-appalled surprise. Was this boy, who was probably no older than fourteen, a Rare Hunter?

When the boy came to a standstill before her, he set those two bags down at his feet, sending a cheerful grin her way. "Hey, A'isha!" he exclaimed, panting a little. "Sorry I'm late! I had to  _literally_  run an unexpected errand for Master Marik!" He glanced at the bags at his sides, then laughed as he said; "Plus Marik's luggage is way heavier than it looks."

A'isha arched a curious, somewhat confused brow. Her first thought:  _This Bryn guy seems like one of Marik's nicer employees._  Her second:  _Of course Pretty Boy Marik packs anything but light._

"A'isha?" the address sliced through her thoughts, and she realised Bryn was now at the edge of the deck, using the rope tied to the smaller boat to lug the smaller ship towards its far larger counterpart. "There isn't a chance you could help me lug those bags into this thing, is there?" He revealed a cheeky grin. "And maybe don't  _accidentally_  drop Marik's bags into the ocean while you're at it."

She had to laugh at that, considering that very thought had in fact crossed her mind the second he'd asked for her help with Sir Jerk-A-Lot's things. "I suppose so," she decided, albeit hesitant to touch anything that belonged to her tormentor – or maybe repulsed was a better word? She rolled her suitcase along to Bryn's side, then retrieved Marik's from where Bryn had left them, maybe ten steps away from where the smaller and larger ship met.

Bryn leaped over the smaller boat's railing with ease, then turned to face her. "Hand em over, will ya?"

She gave a curt nod, handing her fairly light suitcase over first. Marik's bags, however, were a bit more of a struggle.

"For goodness' sake," A'isha muttered, after Bryn took Mister Heavy Packer's second bag off her hands. "Is he taking his whole damn jewellery collection in these things?"

Bryn laughed. "Are you kidding?" He offered her a hand, helping her climb into the boat herself. "He'd need at least five bags just for his chokers."

A'isha snorted back laughter. Then something dawned on her. "You're not going to get in trouble for making fun of him, are you?" Perhaps it was that he was so young or merely because he'd made a good first impression, but she was admittedly a little worried about getting Bryn in trouble. She doubted Marik took kindly to being mocked by his employ. Maybe she  _did_  care too much for her own good...

"Don't worry about me," Bryn coolly said, sliding a set of keys into the boat's ignition. "I'm not the one here who's been kidnapped." He started examining something on the control panel in front of the driver's seat.

A'isha had to admit, she appreciated how down-to-earth he seemed. Not to mention it felt great to be treated like an actual human being with feelings. She figured she'd savour the feeling while she could; Marik sure wasn't going to treat her that way these next few days.

The wind whipped through her ruminations, making her shiver again; a silent reminder to grab a jacket from her suitcase. She quickly found her things in the semi-open cabin at the very front of the boat and, a minute later, she was shrugging into a plain ebony jacket as she ducked back onto the main deck. She silently slipped into the passenger seat, patiently waiting as Bryn adjusted his seat. The last Rare Hunter to use it must have been quite a bit taller.

"Hey, Bryn?"

The boy in question glanced up at her from where he was crouched beside the seat. "Yeah?"

"How did you get caught up with the Rare Hunters?" She was beyond curious as to how someone so young had found himself in a profession like this.

"Long story short," he began in a rather casual tone, "I was in a band with some school friends and we were all into Duel Monsters. I was in this tournament and got disqualified – false accusations of stealing a strategy even though I didn't actually know. I was expelled, and matters were made worse when my band's rep was ruined by some faulty speakers." He sighed, a slight amount of sorrow now seeping into his words. "We got cut from music class because of it, so we all ran away to the Rare Hunters like the organisation was some sort of circus." He grinned, all prior sorrow seemingly evaporated into the slightly salty air about them. "But at least we can duel with freedom! And Marik even lets our band have a jamming session every once in a while. I swear he low-key enjoys our tunes, even if he doesn't admit it."

"Really?" A'isha was somewhat shocked by the dramas that had unfolded in the life of someone his age... and yet he seemed happy enough. "I can't picture Marik enjoying anything aside from taunting and mind-controlling people."

Bryn shrugged. "He's pretty hard-case, but not that bad once you get to know him." He sheepishly rubbed his neck. "Well, get to know him as much as he  _lets_  you. He's a pretty private person."

"So I've heard..."

"Anyway-" She noticed him glance at a small sheet of paper, which he soon stowed in his pants pocket "-I'm about ready to get this show on the road if you are?"

"I don't think I'll ever be ready to deal with your boss."

Bryn sent another cheeky grin her way. "I'm going to choose to take that as a yes." No sooner had he said that did he twist the key in the ignition, prompting the motor at the very back of the boat to rumble to life, as the propellers spat foams of sea water about. "Hold on tight!" he called out, over the steady growling of the engine.

A'isha needed no second warning, quickly gripping a metal handle to the right of her seat, stained with specks of dry sea salt. The motor revved a moment later, and the boat sped off in the direction of a location unknown to her. She peered over her shoulder, watching as the vessel that had served as her accommodation these past few days slowly shrunk into the distance. Having hated every second she'd spent on it, A'isha felt strange to be leaving it...almost sad. Probably because she was unwillingly sacrificing a Marik-free boat for four days full of the jerk.

As they headed out of the secluded bay, her soft sighs were hushed by the wind that whipped past the boat and the constant groan of the motor. It seemed Bryn was following the curve of a cliff that loomed high overhead, directing them towards the next bay over.

A'isha squinted as a shadow came into sight; a silhouette of what she was sure looked like a plane. But that didn't make sense. It was out on the water, not on land. Wait- Realisation struck. It was a sea plane. He'd arranged a sea plane. Not just a normal old prop plane, but a  _freaking sea plane_. "Seriously?" she breathed, the single word muffled by the motor.

Around five minutes later, Bryn had parked up alongside the surprisingly large plane. She figured sea planes probably couldn't get much bigger than this one, needing to land on water as well as being able to land the normal old way. Not that she knew much about planes...or anything with a motor for that matter.

A'isha had retreated into the front cabin, partially to get out of Bryn's way as he tied up the boat to the plane, then handed the pilot their luggage...but mostly to prolong seeing Sir Jerk-A-Lot. When they had approached the plane, she'd glimpsed a head of platinum blond hair through one of the windows. That was all the motivation she'd needed to duck into the cabin, where she could hopefully wallow in self-pity for just a little while longer without interrup-

"Don't tell me you're hiding from me, Ish."

Never mind.

A'isha cringed, a scowl instantly plastering itself upon her visage. She immediately felt her stress levels rising. Looking left, she found Marik peering into the cabin, wearing that trademark smirk. If only she could slap it right off his face without any repercussions. She cocked a brow, realising she couldn't see his body. He must have been standing on a ramp or some stairs that were connected to the plane, and was leaning over the boat railing to peek into her hiding place.

As much as she loved to have the last word, A'isha knew that sending a scathing remark back at him would only encourage him to pester her, which was why she simply chose to glare at the front of the cabin and away from his infuriating face.

"So this is how it feels to get the silent treatment?" she heard him say, each word only baiting the frustration that bubbled just beneath the surface.

A'isha narrowly overcame the stubborn urge to send a comeback his way. Instead, she continued to glare, avoiding his gaze.

"This is your strategy for dealing with me these next few days?" He chuckled. "We both know it's fatally flawed. You're too stubborn to stay silent for long."

In an effort to ease her nerves, A'isha sucked in a deep breath, and finally met his gaze. "I'm assuming we're ready to go?" She made sure to keep her voice level. Barely.

"You assume correctly." He brought his hand over the railing to beckon her outside with his index finger. "So I suggest you get out here."

The way he'd beckoned her outside seemed demeaning, as though he were coaxing a child from a playground.  _This is Marik,_  she reminded herself.  _Demeaning is his middle name._

Heaving a sigh that sounded far more aggravated than she'd intended, A'isha hesitantly shuffled out of the cabin, reuniting with the fresh sea breeze. She glanced at the nearby coast once more, painted in the shadows of the setting sun as dozens of man-made lights dotted the land. "Where are we?" she said, genuinely curious.

"Crete," Marik supplied simply.

"How long is our flight to Catania?"

"An hour."

"Greaaat," she sarcastically said, then mentally slapped herself for already returning to being bitter in his presence.  _Me and my big mouth!_

"We don't have time for you to gawk at the landscape," she heard Marik mutter. "It is preferable that we take off while there is still a little light on the water."

Ish looked his way to find his hand outstretched, a silent request to assist her in clambering over the boat railing and onto the metal stairs that led to the sea plane. Her face scrunched up in obvious distaste. Marik was standing right at the end of the stairs, in the very spot that needed to be free in order for her to climb there without his help. He was doing this on purpose!

"You're not giving me a choice here!" she growled, abandoning yet another fickle attempt at composure.

His grin was unsettling in that it seemed genuine. "You always have a choice," he murmured softly, his hand still outstretched.

A'isha scoffed. "What am I supposed to do? Push you off?" The irritation on her face shifted to a look of mild consideration. Marik must have noticed, for he huffed in amusement.

"You're not very subtle."

"I wasn't trying to be."

He rolled his eyes. "Are you going to take my hand? Or do you plan on embarrassing yourself by trying to push me off?"

"I could do both."

"I'd take you with me."

"Worth it."

A slight smile tugged at her lips. She refused to admit that the oh-so-satisfying image of Marik drenched, his girly eyeliner running down his cheeks, wasn't the only reason for it. She glanced at the driver's seat of the boat, realising Bryn had been sitting there throughout her conversation with Mister Manipulative. Why was he smiling at them?

"Enjoy Catania, will ya?" Bryn said with a brief thumbs up and a wide grin.

A'isha nodded, fine with admitting that her smile was now thanks to her more amicable company. "It was nice to meet you, Bryn." Her smile grew. "Maybe I'll hear your band play when I'm back."  _If I actually come back._

"Sounds like a plan!"

"You know, my arm is getting rather tired." Typical Sir Jerk-A-Lot, putting himself in the centre of everything.

A'isha groaned, sending a sour look Marik's way. As she began to clamber over the rail, she bit the proverbial bullet and quickly grabbed his hand before her better judgement had a chance to protest. "If you even think about dropping me-"

Her words were cut short as her left foot caught on the rail. A gasp hissed from her lips as her mind silently prepared for cool water to slide over her skin. Instead, she was met by a firm chest and an arm around her waist.

"You're quite uncoordinated for head of the dance squad."

The first thing A'isha noticed was what almost looked like relief in the depths of his eyes. The second thing she saw was his smirk. She focussed on that, scoffing as she shoved him away. No sooner had she done that did she remember they were standing on a small set of stairs over the ocean. Panic overruled all else, willing her to instinctively grab his upper arms before he stumbled into the sea. When reality caught up with A'isha, regret filled her in buckets.

Blue met lavender. Both sets of eyes were wide.

This time, A'isha was the one to smirk, unable to resist mocking her tormentor when the opportunity had just been handed to her on a silver platter. She smiled sweetly. "You look shocked."

A'isha gave him no time to respond. She didn't even wait for a reaction. Instead, Ish quickly ripped his arm from around her, rushed up the stairs and into the plane, leaving a now smiling Marik in her wake.

* * *

The sea plane was just as spacious on the inside as it looked from the outside, with beige and deep wood upholstery, plush leather seats, a generously sized screen and even a coffee machine. She was sure that last one was what had sold it for Marik, seeing as he was currently on his third cup of black coffee.

A'isha had been stoked to get inside before Marik, having been able to claim the window seat for herself. The feeling was short-lived when he slid into the seat beside her and refused to swap, insisting that he was being generous by giving her the seat with a view...even though the sun had now set. She reasoned that being beside him was probably a step up from sitting opposite him, with his pretty boy face smirking back at her. And Marik had even let her choose something to watch on the screen. Of course, she'd chosen season one of  _How I Met Your Mother_  the second she saw it was an option.

"I wonder which one Barney is," Marik spoke up in obvious sarcasm, referring to how she'd said the character in question is obsessed with suits.

A'isha simply shrugged. She was surprised that he wasn't goading her for once, but she wasn't about to make conversation. Plus it was nice to enjoy a slice of normality; watching one of her favourite shows... even if a mind-controlling maniac was sitting right beside her.

"Amara doesn't hate you," Marik suddenly said in a far too casual tone.

She stiffened at that, her sights snapping from the screen that hung from the roof to meet her company's gaze. "You- You think I don't know that."

Marik continued as though she'd never spoken; "Quite the contrary really. She sees you as more of a mother figure to her than Elissa has ever been."

"I know what you're doing."

He quirked a brow. "And what is that exactly?"

"Trying to make me open up about Elissa." She scowled out the window. "I'm not stupid. And my life is not your business."

"It persuaded more of a reaction from you than light chit chat does."

A'isha ground her teeth, hating the truth his words possessed. Bringing up her home life  _had_  demanded more of a reaction from her, and she'd unknowingly played right into his hands by replying to him.

Ish heaved a bitter sigh. "Yes; the guy in the suit is Barney."

Still scowling out the window, she could just hear the smirk in his voice; "I can see why I remind you of him. Undeniably fashionable. Good with the ladies. Absolutely hilarious."

 _Absolutely hilarious in that the first two things on that list aren't true,_  she sourly thought, rolling her eyes. "The only thing you two have in common is that you're both  _beyond_  full of yourselves and have a ridiculously extensive collection of ties."

To her surprise, Marik merely laughed in response, and the rest of the trip flew by quickly and with minimal chit chat. A'isha liked to think Marik was choosing not to bother her, but really he just seemed to be distracted by the TV show more than anything else. He even seemed to genuinely laugh a few times. At least, it sounded genuine- and didn't suit him at all. Even worse, he laughed at the same jokes she did, which in turn sucked any joy the show gave her completely dry.

They had just landed. It was too dark for her to recognise where, though she thought she'd seen some lights in the distance as they were descending. She figured they belonged to Catania's central city area.

A'isha watched as the pilot stepped around his seat and over to the exit. He opened the hatch with ease, then strode into the night and out of sight. She caught some muffled Italian between the pilot and another guy, originating somewhere on the runway, but couldn't understand a word of it.

"He's briefing the man on where our baggage is," Marik suddenly spoke up, sounding disinterested, "and where it must be delivered to."

So far, he'd demonstrated fluency in English and Arabic at different times, the former of which is the language her family used at home. Elissa preferred using English over Arabic after growing up in London- that was probably why Marik had used English upon their first meeting, and every other encounter after that. He'd either been greeted by Amara in that language...or had read her mind to find they used it at home. A'isha figured he must know at least  _some_  Italian too, as he seemed to understand their pilot's conversation with the man outside.

"Why can't you just tell him yourself when he drives us to wherever it is we're going?"

Marik revealed a sweet smile that made A'isha's stomach sour. "Did I state that he is our driver?"

"You're not implying that-"

"La vostra moto è pronta, signor Sharti." The pilot had returned.

"Grazie," Marik returned with a curt nod, before unclipping his seat belt and suavely leaving his seat. His lavender gaze fell on her. "Leave your luggage behind." He almost ordered as he left his own bags behind, and coolly trailed down the short aisle while his hands absently slid along the top of each beige seat.

 _Moto…_ A'isha hastily unclipped herself and swept from her seat, rushing to catch up with him.  _That word sounds a little too close to motorbike for my taste._ She stepped down the stairs a few seconds after Blondie.  _That jerk had better not have a-_

A'isha's stomach churned as it fell on an ebony motorcycle that seemed even darker beneath the dim airfield lighting. It stood perhaps ten metres down the runway, near a dirt road that led off into darkness. The airfield was empty and secluded. It was clearly for private use and not open to the public.

"There is no way in  _hell_ that I'm hopping on that death trap and wrapping my arms around you!" she shrieked defensively, her whole body going rigid. "I'd rather walk!"

Marik's unsettlingly sweet smile only grew. "I had a feeling you'd say that," he began, securing a metallic blue helmet over his blond head of hair. "After all, Dani did say you'd blow a gasket if he ever got a bike himself."

A'isha snorted and scowled at her infuriating company. "Dani didn't say that!"

Marik shrugged as that mock smile morphed into his trademark smirk. "You don't have to believe me."

"I don't."

"Suit yourself." He easily threw a leg over the vehicle, then flipped the kickstand with his foot. "I trust you know where we're staying? And how to get there?" His smirk grew as he twisted a key in the ignition and the bike viciously rumbled to life. "See you in three hours."

Before A'isha could throw another word in, Marik sped off along the dirt road, throwing clouds of dust in his wake. She watched with wide eyes and a slack jaw, as the motorbike headlights sliced through the darkness, illuminating silhouettes of what looked like hills, before the vehicle disappeared behind those hills. The howl of the bike faded into silence soon after.

Her expression was somewhere between dubious and furious. Had he actually just driven off without his captive?

"I really am going to kill him."

A'isha tried to communicate with their luggage guy, hoping he'd drive her to wherever they were staying, but to no avail. She had a feeling he understood her though. Maybe Marik had told him not to help her. As if she could hate the jerk any more.

After five minutes of trying and failing to ask the guy for help, A'isha had opted to follow the dirt trail Marik had taken. She had a feeling he'd do a loop and come back for her. It's not like he could actually leave his kidnappee walking free and risk her finding the authorities. And if she was honest, walking alone at night after having close to no privacy these past few days... it sounded rather inviting.

Her blue eyes scanned her surroundings, thankfully having adjusted to the dark, seeing as the dirt road was void of street lights. The glow of the milky white moon that hung in the sky helped too, illuminating the high hills that loomed over the winding road. She'd been walking for maybe five or ten minutes when the faint growl of a motorbike sliced through the tranquil silence of the night, swiftly growing louder.

The noise sounded like it was coming from behind her. Now that A'isha thought about it, she had encountered a crossroads a few minutes back. She had considered waiting there, but her stubbornness had willed her to continue going straight. Anyway, in her mind, turning left or right made less sense than continuing on the same road; she figured Marik would surmise that too. And all the while, she'd hated giving him that much credit.

The mechanical growl soon morphed into a roar, reminding her of a hungry lion. She would've almost preferred seeing a hungry lion sprinting through the darkness than the headlights that suddenly blinded her. After a few seconds, she'd adjusted to the brightness... or were the lights just at a forty five degree angle now? A'isha was ridiculously unimpressed as she realised it was the latter, and that Marik was doing a wheelie just to brass her off more. The grate of dry dirt against rubber hissed through the night as he skidded to a halt beside her.

He revved the motor, grinning all the while and clearly enjoying her look of utter disapproval. When he lost interest in the reaction, Marik lifted up the goggles on his helmet, revealing laughing lavender eyes. "Had enough of walking yet?"

"Actually, I was quite enjoying the peace and quiet."

"I suppose I'll do another loop then."

"You do that," she said with a snide smile.

Marik flashed a smirk as he pulled down his goggles once more. After a few more unnecessary revs of his bike, he'd raced off into the night once more.  _He's going way too fast,_ she thought, watching his retreating form as she shook her head in disapproval.  _But maybe he'll crash and hurt himself._ She smirked. _I hope so._

A'isha glanced right, up at one of the many hills around her. Her smirk stretched. She trekked up the hill with a stumble or two, then marched along through the darkness with a super triumphant grin.  _Alright, Blondie... Let's see you follow me up this hill on your stupid bike!_

The raven haired girl wandered up and over one hill after another, only giving up after about five minutes. She didn't want to get lost, after all. That's when she froze, gasping as reality hit.  _Which way is the road?_  A'isha remained still, listening intently for the groan of a motorbike; looking for headlights amid the darkness. Nothing.

"Shit."

She slumped to the grass beneath her, folding her arms across her chest. "Well...I'm just going to sit here until he finds me!"

Sadly, she had a feeling he wouldn't take long.

The moon was almost full, casting its faint glow across the land and illuminating the rolling hills that stretched out into the distance. When she squinted, she was sure she'd glimpsed the outline of the famous Mt Etna. The chirps of crickets were keeping her company, though she was a little paranoid of a bug crawling over her leg or something, seeing as she was sitting on a grassy hill amid various shrubs.

A'isha wasn't sure of exactly how much time had ticked on by. Ten minutes? Or fifteen? Maybe half an hour? Impatience left her feeling like an eternity has passed. She was beginning to get a little worried. Sure, she was alone. But she was  _alone_  in a foreign country! Worse yet, she was  _lost_  in a foreign country!

Suddenly, the crack of a nearby branch sliced through the tranquillity. Far too familiar steps, though muffled by grass, alerted her to Marik's presence. She was silent, briefly wondering when a glare had crept onto her face. By this point, she figured the jerk just had that effect on her.

The rustling of grass ceased as he claimed a spot to her right upon the grass, propping his legs out in front of him; resting his elbows atop his thighs and threading his fingers together. Her glare only hardened a notch. He just had to go and sit next to her. Worse yet, he didn't say anything. He only stared out at the landscape before them. She had a feeling he was saying nothing merely to make her feel awkward. Not that she felt much better when he finally did speak up.

"Did you enjoy your little escapade?"

"Until  _you_  showed up."

He laughed lightly. "Quite stubborn, aren't you?"

"And you're not?" she shot back.

"Stubbornness is one's inability to sway their views, in spite of good reason to do so." His arms slid from his legs as he opted to thread his fingers together behind his head, reclining into the grass to stare blankly at the sky. "So I wouldn't exactly describe myself as stubborn. There's no good reason for my views to be swayed."

"You kidnap my cousin and I and have the nerve to say you have no good reason to sway your views." She snorted. "That's either stubbornness, psychopathy or both."

"Kidnapping you was necessary."

"How can you possibly justify that? Seriously, how? I don't understand how someone's perception can be so...  _freaking_   _warped_  that they don't see a problem with- with-" A'isha heaved an aggravated sigh. "Forget it! I'm wasting my breath!"

They fell quiet for perhaps half a minute. The songs of crickets mingled with the rustling of leaves to create night's soft melody. It eased A'isha a little, though the feeling was short lived as Marik's eerily soft words sliced through the sound.

"There are not always reasons for a person's actions. Only excuses." He gave a dry laugh. "After all, if there is no reason for one's behaviour, then they cannot be controlled. They are unpredictable. It is simply human nature to be fearful of the unknown. Fear drives self-preservation, and life cannot exist without it." She squirmed, feeling his eyes boring into her back. "Fear is something I'd say you've become quite familiar with these past few days."

"If fear is a part of being human", A'isha spared a glance over her shoulder to find him watching her rather curiously, "then what are you afraid of?"

"What do you think I'm afraid of?" The question tumbled from his lips like he'd been prepared for hers. After ranting on about fear, he probably had been.

"Failure," she said just as quickly.

"Once again, you're not wrong." Marik seemed to simply shrug off the remark as he heaved a sigh, and she heard the grass rustling as he found his feet. "Now then." He looked down at her. "Are you sick of walking yet?" He grinned. "Because I'd rather not have to carry you back to my bike."

A'isha snorted. "Like you could." She paused. "And that wasn't an invitation!"

His grin only grew. "As much as I'd love to prove you wrong, I'd rather not endure the inevitable kicking and screaming that would come with it." He held out his hand, only for her to smack it away.

"I don't need your help."

His grin never wavered as that same hand dropped to his side. "Very stubborn, indeed."

"I'm already going to be touching you enough on that stupid bike." She quickly found her feet and dusted off her jeans. "I'd rather avoid touching you where possible."

"You'll need to get used to the concept if you want our little act on Sunday to be convincing."

She scoffed. "I don't care if it's convincing.  _You_  do. Plus I can act pretty well if I want to."

"So prove it."

"I said I can act if I  _want_  to." She folded her arms across her chest, scowling at him. "I don't want to and I'm not about to go and prove it.  _You_  need  _me_  for your ruse."

"And  _you_  need your cousin to remain unharmed." His grin became even more unsettling than she was accustomed to. "Or have you forgotten that I can end her with one thought and would not hesitate to do so... should someone force my hand?"

Her eyes narrowed. He really was the biggest jerk! "I don't need to prove I can act!" she shrieked, turning her back on the infuriating blond to march in the direction she was sure he had come from.

"A'isha..."

She came to a sudden halt, spinning on her heel to face him. "What!?"

"You don't know where you're going." He cocked his head to his left – her right – before heading in that very direction. "My bike is  _this_  way."

"How do you know that?" she muttered, though followed him nonetheless. She almost walked straight into him when he came to a sudden stop at the crest of the hill.

"Careful." He smirked her way. "You wouldn't want to touch me unnecessarily."

"Not. Funny."

And yet he continued to smirk for a moment longer. The expression fell as he spoke up, his tone surprisingly serious. "To answer your question..." His gaze shifted from her to sky, where he gestured to a particular group of stars. " _That_ is Alpha Ursae Minoris. Also known as Polaris, the brightest star in the constellation of Ursa Minor. Though Polaris is more commonly known as-"

"The North Star."

"It's rude to interrupt."

"You must be rubbing off on me."

At those words, that irritating smirk of his returned. "I didn't mean it like  _that_."

"Like what?" He was playing dumb. Of course.

"Ugh. You're disgusting!" She quickened her pace, walking a few steps ahead of him. Sadly, he matched her speed and, soon enough, was walking alongside her once more. "Stop it," she growled.

"Fun fact-"

"I don't care."

"It is a common misconception that Polaris is the brightest star in the night sky. In actual fact, it ranks at about fifty in terms of brightness."

She arched a brow, but this time she didn't quicken her pace. "Why do you even know this stuff?"

"Ignorance is something I don't enjoy."

"Then why are you so ignorant to the feelings of others?" She feigned nonchalance when really, she was quite curious as to what his answer might be.

He shrugged. "I'm not."

Somehow, she was both surprised and yet not at all. "You're kidding, right?"

Marik stilled, a silent prompt for her to do the same. When she met his gaze, it was piercing, and she was reminded that he seemed to possess a natural ability to read people that was only enhanced by the Millennium Rod. She fidgeted a little, clearly uneasy.

"I understand your feelings perfectly." The phrase came calmly, carefully. "I understand your disdain, your disgust, your hate... your fear. And your refusal to show that last one as a result of your stubborn nature. I took you from your family, your friends... almost everyone and everything you've ever cared about." His stare was finally too intense, forcing her sight to shift to the sky. She refused to admit that part of the reason she'd looked away was to hide the tears that had her eyes gleaming beneath the glow of the moon. "Amara is back on my ship... You truly are alone. And you're terrified." Her shoulders shuddered as she barely bit back a sob. "Your stubbornness merely hides your fear in the form of the disdain, disgust and hate I mentioned earlier."

A'isha was silent. She was afraid to speak, afraid that all that would leave her lips would be a shaky, pitiful sob. But more than that, she was afraid because he was right... he understood... he knew all of this and yet he couldn't care less. It took half a minute for her to feel capable of forming words without her voice cracking and humiliating her.

"So you just don't care."

She wanted to slap him when all he did was laugh. "Dani  _did_ say everyone tells you that you care too much." He continued to walk, gesturing for her to follow. She did so, but not without a moment of hesitation. She wanted to snap at him for mentioning Dani again, but that might just open another can of worms that she really couldn't be bothered dealing with. "If that's true, and I suspect that it is, then I imagine my lack of caring infuriates you to no end."

"Everything you do infuriates me to no end."

"You make it too easy."

A'isha could've screamed at him. Asked what he expected her to do after he'd kidnapped, threatened, tormented and straight up assaulted her and Amara... but she knew there was no point. Like he'd just said, he doesn't care. She'd only be entertaining him further. Huffing, she simply refused to meet his gaze, instead glaring daggers straight ahead. They were at the crest of a smaller hill than before; at the bottom, she noticed his motorbike parked to one side of the dirt road. They trekked down the hill in silence and, much to her relief, he said nothing the entire time.

As they approached the bike, its lights flashed twice. She watched as Marik withdrew a key from his pocket and slid it into the ignition below the speedometer. Two helmets hung from the handle bars; the black one he'd worn earlier and a vibrant orange helmet. When he tossed the orange one her way the phrase  _"Orange seems as though it suits you, Dear A'isha"_  echoed in her mind. It was the reason for the growl that rumbled in her throat a second later, as she recalled that damn dress he'd chosen for her. Another phrase bounced around in her head: _"I like a girl with some fire"_. Her grip on the helmet tightened to the point that her hands trembled.

"Are you just going to stare at it all night?" Marik yanked her from her thoughts. She looked up to find him already seated on the bike, with his helmet buckled and his goggles down. "Or are you just not quite sure of where to put it?"

Ish glowered at him, then at the helmet. "I thought you didn't care," she shot back, yanking out her hair tie to slide it onto her right wrist.

He shrugged, an action he seemed in favour of this evening. "I choose not to care, but I am by no means incapable of it."

"If you can  _choose_  not to care, then you don't. It's as simple as that."

"I might just care if you hurt that pretty little head of yours."

Despite absorbing his words, she ignored them. Partly because she didn't believe them in the slightest, but mostly because she'd decided she was way too tired for another useless discussion. She focused on fastening her helmet in place. After a few tries, she managed. "The colour had better be a coincidence," she muttered to herself. He must have heard, because she heard him chuckle the second the sentence left her lips.

"You should know by now, Dear A'isha, that nothing I do is without purpose."

"Whatever," A'isha growled, playing around with her helmet to make sure it was a comfortable fit...and to stall the inevitable.

"Oh would you look at the time." Marik glanced at the watch on his left wrist. "It's a quarter past 'stop stalling and get on the motorcycle'."

A'isha's whole body grew tense with fury, while her face immediately twisted into a look of complete and utter disgust. "Easy for you to say! You're not the freaking victim here!"

"Afraid you won't want to let go?"

"Are you kidding me? That's  _all_  that I'll want to do!"

He was smirking again. "That's where the fear comes in. And by extension, that self-preservation I mentioned earlier."

"Well it's a good thing I'm wearing your stupid orange helmet then, isn't it?"

He groaned, a sign that his patience was wearing thin and her defiance was no longer amusing to him. "Just get on the bike."

Much to her dismay, self-preservation  _was_  kicking in, whispering that she swallow her pride rather than risking running his patience into the dirt-covered ground beneath them. "Fine!" she spat, then hesitated for maybe five seconds, staring at the empty spot behind her captor.

Only when he impatiently cleared his throat did she finally overcome her distaste enough to throw a leg over the vehicle. A'isha cringed as she slid her arms around his waist, threading her fingers together, all while wondering how the heck was she supposed to act like his fiancée on Sunday when she couldn't even hide her disgust at touching him. She was good enough at acting... but was she  _that_  good? She supposed she'd find out.

A gasp shot from her lips as the bike suddenly roared to life, and again when the motorcycle lurched as he sped off unnecessarily fast, forcing her to tighten her grip on his abdomen.

Feeling more than a little awkward, A'isha tried to ignore his admittedly chiselled six pack, recalling the time he'd removed his Rare Hunter dress back in his room to reveal a body she refused to be fazed by... well,  _tried to_.

Swallowing hard, she instead focused on the fact he'd sped off on purpose, knowing she'd have no choice but to tighten her grip.  _If I don't strangle him by the end of the week, I might just believe that miracles_ can _happen._

* * *

They had long since left the dusty dirt road that carved through the dimly lit hills of the country side. Now the roar of their ride echoed as they zoomed through well-lit city streets lined with century old buildings constructed in a baroque style. The architecture was common in Catania. She scowled, partially because Marik's hair had been slapping her in the face the whole damn trip, but mostly because she was in Catania with him in the first place. The proposition just  _had_ to be in a city where she'd shared good memories with Dani.

A'isha was relieved, to put it lightly, when the motorcycle began to slow. Marik pulled off the road and into a small parking space intended for motorcycles. The moment the motorbike was stationary, A'isha threw herself from her seat, refusing to touch her kidnapper for even a millisecond longer than necessary. Unfortunately, it came at the expense of almost faceplanting the pavement.

"I repeat," Marik drawled, sliding from the bike in a more suave fashion; "Head of the dance squad?"

A'isha was oh-so-grateful for her caramel complexion, since it hid her embarrassment fairly well. Not that he couldn't sense it anyway. "I don't need to prove myself to you," she muttered, dusting off her pants.

Marik hung his helmet over the bike's handlebar. A'isha did the same, then examined her surroundings. "Where's our hotel?" she asked, failing to mention she knew the area well enough to know a hotel wasn't exactly nearby.

"I imagine you're quite famished, seeing as you had close to nothing these past few days."

"Actually, I'm still kind of full from the pasta I had this afternoon."

Ignoring her words, Marik smoothly stepped onto the sidewalk, lazily beckoning for her to follow. Sighing, she trailed a few feet behind him. She paled as they approached a store she knew far too well.

Marik coolly slid his hands into his front pockets. "Whether you are hungry or not, I'm starved after such an eventful afternoon."

"Where did you even  _go_  this afternoon?"

"My affairs are of no concern to you."

"Unless you need a fake fiancée," she shot back.

Marik was silent; the smirk he sent her way spoke volumes in itself.

They crossed the threshold of the store a moment later, where the scent of freshly kneaded dough and melted mozzarella enveloped their senses. Marik turned to her.

"If you don't get something, I don't expect to hear any complaints should you end up regretting it later this evening."

A'isha shrugged, fighting the urge to glance at a particularly significant wall on her left. As Marik's lavender eyes were currently on her, he'd notice the second she did. "Just get me whatever," she mumbled.

Marik said nothing, but he did turn his back on her to approach the counter that was currently being manned by a lanky boy who was probably about her age. She frowned, feigning nonchalance as she wandered over to a wall she remembered. It was littered with photos of the store's patrons. Her frown grew as she spotted one photo in particular...

" _Una pizza margherita per la signora!" Dani announced in an admittedly impressive Italian accent. He handed her a small cardboard box. On the lid was a cartoon image of a stereotypical Italian man with a thin, ebony moustache, grinning up at her from behind the store's logo._

" _Una pizza napoletana per il signore!" her boyfriend went on to announce, holding another box high. Dani flashed a sly smirk as he withdrew an unseen object from his back pocket. He outstretched his hand a few seconds later, revealing what was probably the best part. "And I wouldn't have a clue as to how you say this in Italian, but we've also got a chocolate bar!"_

 _A'isha faked a pout as she eyed the confectionery, stuffed with creamy hazelnut mousse. "Really?" she shot back, thinly veiling her sarcasm. "Just_ one _chocolate bar? Dani, you really need to step up your game because that is just_ unforgivable _!"_

_Dani snorted as they left the store, lingering on the side walk. "I kid you not, that was their last chocolate bar." With a pizza box in his left hand, his right arm slid around her waist. "And let's be honest..." He pulled her close, and she blushed as his lips grazed over her ear. "Sharing is caring."_

_A'isha snickered, nudging her hip into his side. "Whatever, Trevor!" She scanned the area, spotting a small, quaint park a short ways down and across the street. "How about we eat there? Beats eating in the hotel?"_

_He smirked, planting a small peck on her cheek. "You read my mind, Missy."_

" _Well, y'know..." She wrapped her free arm around his waist, briefly nestling her head against his toned tricep. "I tend to do that sometimes."_

In the present, A'isha grimaced at the irony of those words. Little had she known that she'd be at the mercy of a mind-controlling screwball only months later. She almost wanted to slap herself for making the stupid joke.

Shaking that thought from her mind, Ish eyed the object of her reminiscing, hardly stifling a laugh at the fact the pizza their hands wasn't the only thing cheesy about the photograph. It had been snapped during their third visit to the pizza parlour, at the insistence of the owner, who loved to stick pictures of his returning customers up on what he called "Il Muro"... Italian for "The Wall".

A'isha stole a glance over her shoulder, where Blondie was busy placing his order with the checkout assistant. Turning back to the photo, she realised there was no way in hell she'd risk him seeing it. Being back in Catania was bad enough without him knowing it meant something to her. That was why – after a brief, but thorough sweep of the store, and after checking for cameras – A'isha scrambled to pull it off the wall, thankful it was only stuck in place by blu-tack.

Biting her lip, she quickly shoved it into her left bra cup. She almost felt like a crook herself, like Marik's criminal ways were rubbing off on her...even if the photo technically belonged to her and Dani, considering they were its subjects. Spinning on her heel to face away from the wall, she tried – quite successfully if she did say so herself – to act natural as she wandered over to Marik. He was currently sliding a card into his leather wallet, which he then slipped into the front pocket of his jeans.

"So," Blondie began, absently leaning against the counter as he glanced her way, "we have fifteen minutes to kill."

"I really hope you don't mean that literally."

"Don't be silly, Ish." He sent a sickly sweet smile her way. "I still need you."

"Gee, thanks."

Marik smiled, which in turn made her squirm because it once again seemed genuine. He appeared to savour the bitter look on her face for a little while longer before he finally lost interest, and his lavender orbs travelled to the exit. "Why don't we go for a walk?"

"You say that like I have a choice."

"Do I really need to remind you?"

"Let me guess... I always have a choice?"

"Now you're starting to see things my way." He stopped a moment to relish the amusingly sour expression on his captive's face before he cocked his head toward the exit. "Let's go."

A'isha sighed, something she just could  _not_  seem to stop doing tonight. Wishing they could simply stay in the store, sitting in silence until their dinner was ready, A'isha instead grudgingly followed Marik out the door, trailing a few steps behind the blond who had no destination in mind.


	18. Chapter 17: Pining For Liberty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just another disclaimer, the hotel used in this chapter and the next few is heavily inspired by a hotel of the same name in Catania, Italy. Also, sorry if you read Italian and recognise that something we've included is wrong; unfortunately, the Internet is only so accurate. A heads up also, there are a few short flashbacks sprinkled through this chapter; the may just blend too well, so we're giving you a heads up-  
> they'll be in italics. Enjoy the reading!

**Chapter Seventeen: Pining For Liberty**

A symphony of sounds echoed through the bustling city streets. The faint hum of passing cars, the hushed tunes of a lively jazz band performing in a nearby bar, the scuffing of shoes upon the pavement, the abundance of spoken languages floating through the air. For a Wednesday night, A'isha thought the city seemed particularly hectic. Then she remembered that Christmas was only six days away, meaning a lot of lucky people that  _weren't_ her were currently on leave or were about to be.

Courtesy of the crowds, A'isha had no choice but to keep close to Marik, forcing that infuriating line to echo through her mind;  _"_ _You always have a choice."_  Seriously!? The nerve of him! It's not like she'd  _chosen_  to be kidnapped... or to be dragged along to Catania... or to be mugged by that Rare Hunter who'd let her kidnapper's name slip in the first place, sealing her fate with his stupid Freudian slip. Sure, she always had her free will, but she also had less than pleasant consequences to consider. Really, any choices offered her way were merely a cruel imitation of the real thing.

A sudden bump on her shoulder stole her from that reverie, only to thrust her into another.

" _Mi scusi! Mi scusi!"_

_A'isha smiled sheepishly at the frantically apologising elderly gent. "That's okay," she insisted, waving her hands back and forth to back up her words. "Mi scusi back at ya!"_

" _Geez, Ish," Dani began, continuing to lead her down the bustling street. She just knew by his sly smirk that a tease was right around the corner. "First you embrace – beg your pardon,_ trip _–_ _into the statue of a naked man... and now you're bowling over elderly fellas." He faked disapproval, clucking his tongue thrice with a slight shake of his head. "Ish, Ish, Ish. . . I thought you were head of the dance squad, Missy."_

_A'isha snorted, despite her smile. "If you had a little more self-awareness, maybe your big butt wouldn't have shoved me right into that naked man!" she countered, only to fight back a blush when a middle aged couple sent her a strange look; they must've understood English, and had clearly started eavesdropping on her conversation with Dani at the most inconvenient of times._

" _Jealous of my money maker, huh?" He winked her way. "Don't worry. It happens._ A lot _."_

" _I see Mister Modest is in full swing today."_

" _Uhh... Always," Dani insisted like it was obvious. "Come on, Miss Mute. When am I_ not  _modest? Give me_ one  _time."_

" _How about that time at school when you blatantly checked yourself out in that one way window?"_

_Dani scoffed dramatically, throwing his hand to his chest as though appalled; she swore he was a diva in a past life. "Why, I- I did that unironically!"_

" _Uh huh..." She grinned, shaking her head at the blond. "And what about last year when you voted for Dani 'Devito' Wyatt as Prom King?"_

 _Dani snorted back laughter at the reminder. "Well I_ did  _put 'Kidding' underneath!"_

" _You put 'Kidding; the name's just_ Dani  _Wyatt'."_

 _"But-" He stifled a snicker. "_ But _. Then below that I put 'Kidding again; I meant to write Dani Wyatt's equally fabulous best bud by the name of Aiden Hunter'."_

" _Now that's a little closer to the truth," A'isha drawled, rising a thoughtful hand to her chin. "Okay. What about that self-recorded video I found of you getting super into the choreography for Thriller?"_

" _I had to wear in my new shoes somehow." Dani paused, blinking twice. "Wait- How is_ that  _an example anyway?" He arched a brow, his sly smirk returning. Not that it was ever gone for long when the playful banter began. "I thought my dance moves were impressive more than anything else."_

" _I rest my case."_

" _Okay! Okay!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I'll admit it... I'm a bit of an asshole."_

" _Don't be silly, Dani!" A'isha's lips split into a cheeky grin as she nudged her boyfriend. "You're the King of Assholes."_

" _Well..." Dani delicately laced his fingers with hers as they took a left, detouring down a quiet side street. "It's a step down from Prom King." He sent a fond smile her way. "But I'll take it."_

A'isha went rigid as a firm hand gripped her upper arm, dragging her down a quiet side street she recognised. . . though this time she seriously doubted she'd find herself on the receiving end of a fond smile. She struggled to shove that thought aside as she yanked her arm from his grasp. "Don't touch me!" she hissed, glaring daggers his way.

Marik wasn't fazed by her hostility. Not that he ever was. In fact, more than anything he looked curious as he arched a brow.

"You seem distracted..."

A'isha groaned. She was not _at all_ in the mood for another psyche evaluation. "We've been walking aimlessly for at least ten minutes," she pointed out, steering away from the accusation both verbally and physically, as she turned on her heel to reunite with the busy city street he'd all but dragged her from. "We should head ba-" This time he grabbed her wrist, forcing her to a standstill. To her dismay, after a few tugs against his grip, she knew he wasn't about to let go. "I'm fine," she muttered, eyeing the ground to avoid his scrutinising stare.

"I hope you act far better than you lie." Neither Marik's stare nor his grip on her relented.

She ripped her eyes from the ground to glare at him. "Why do you care anyway?"

Marik clucked his tongue thrice, shaking his head in time with each one. "Ish, Ish, Ish," All she heard in that moment was Dani. Oh, how she hated Sir Jerk-A-Lot! "How quickly you forget. I choose whether or not to care." Just like that, he released her. "And, I can assure you that I don't." He spun on his heel, heading out of the side street and back the way they'd come. It seemed he'd actually heeded her words for once, and was returning to the pizza parlour. She glanced up, half expecting to find cats and dogs were pouring from the sky.

A few seconds later, she was jogging to catch up with her ever infuriating company. And soon enough, they had left the busier main streets for a familiar, quieter one; their only company being the occasional car, headlights slicing through the darkness as it hummed past.

A'isha sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day. "So what exactly was the point of this walk?" she asked, glancing at the boy to her right.

Marik shrugged. "The obvious intrigue brought forth by being somewhere new, admiring the archaic building designs, particularly the Baroque architecture."

She quirked a brow. "So you haven't been here before?"

"I would think that's quite apparent."

"Why? Because you're looking around like you're sizing the place up?"

"And you're not." He mirrored A'isha's brow quirk.

She should've seen that comment coming from a mile away, though that simple fact didn't stop split-second shock from crossing her features. He suspected she'd been here before… Great. "Well duh. It's not like this is a holiday." She paused. "Which reminds me, when are you letting us go?"

"In due time."

"In due time? You're kidding, right?"

"I don't kid."

"That's  _all_  you ever do!" she shrieked, arms flying. "How do you expect me to accept such a stupid excuse? You might as well say you don't have a clue!"

"I don't have a clue."

"Shut up, Smart Ass! Why can't you at least tell me your intentions? Your plans? We-"

"It really is foolish to ask for both silence  _and_  answers all in one breath."

A'isha tensed. Seriously. How did such a critical jerkwad even exist? "Can you just  _stop_  being a total  _ass_  for  _one_  second and give me an answer?!"

"I already did."

Flinging her hands up in defeat, a bitter growl hissed from her lips. "You're unbelievable!"

"I commend you for delving into that dwindling diction of yours and delivering a word besides 'insufferable'."

"Yeah, well you're that too," Ish muttered, folding her arms in a manner that bordered on petulant. Upon remembering he'd once accused her of being just that, her arms dropped to her sides. "But you already knew that."

Just shy of the pizza parlour, Marik stopped and turned to her. "This  _is_  my hospitable side." A smirk slowly spread across his lips as he leaned in far too close for her liking. Nothing new. "Should I revert back to being a nasty, disgusting, pig-headed, petulant, good-for-nothing piece of work?"

A'isha took two steps back, creating some much needed distance between them. It was unnerving, how extremely nonchalant he was when it came to personal boundaries. Though she had to hand it to him, he had a good memory. Just another thing to hate about him. She looked inside the shop, then exhaled slowly as her sights again settled on him. Swallowing her pride, albeit almost unbearably hard, she opted against amusing him further. "Let's go get our pizza before it gets cold."

He backed off, wearing a smile that almost rivalled his smirk in its ability to bring forth unease. "As you wish."

* * *

_The scuff of bark beneath her feet laced with the creak of the swing, as she absently rocked back and forth. Her ballet flats laid nearby, half-forgotten beside a pair of larger sports shoes._

'Recvd a call just nw frm a cafe accepting ur job application! Idc if ur 16 u sneaky bitch! Ur sure as hell nt getting a job! I expct u 2 tell them u cant accept it and was all a mistake.'

_Sighing at Elissa's text, she slid her phone into the left cup of her bra. Ish's grip on the chains at her sides tightened as she buried her feet into the bark. Her cerulean stare sunk to her bare feet, her temples throbbing as tears threatened to fall. Well, time to throw on her brave face. Thankfully she could act. It was better than her home life being a damper on their trip._

" _So," she said slowly, carefully coating her dejection with false spirit, "what's the plan for the rest of the night?"_

" _Well, my parents won't be back at the hotel until at least midnight."_

" _Oh?"_

" _So we've got the hotel room to ourselves." Dani revealed a sly smirk. "And you know what that means?"_

" _Watch half a movie, get distracted by making out, then fall asleep with the light still on and the phone not charging?"_

" _No, silly!" Dani laughed. "Even if that's closer to the truth than I'd like to admit." His smirk had shifted to a smile. "But again, that's a negative. Ahh... Psh. Over."_

" _Gosh, you are_ such  _a dork."_

" _Well one does not simply say a generic army phrase without ending the sentence using equally generic army lingo." He gestured to a nearby pizza box, resting atop the bark nearby with rapidly cooling slices sitting within. "Now eat your pizza, Missy. Ahh... Psh. Over."_

" _I'm kind of full."_

" _Your pizza's getting cold."_

"Hm?" She blinked twice, confused.

"You're really making me repeat myself?" an unimpressed voice muttered. She glanced left to find her captor reclining beside her on the bench, one lavender orb opened and peeking at her. He sighed when she stayed silent. "I said your pizza's getting cold."

"Oh." A'isha glanced at the slice of pizza in her right hand, registering the way it sagged slightly as she bent her elbow on that same side against her knee. She sighed before taking a half-hearted bite, thinking back to Marik's comment upon giving it to her.

_"As requested, one box of 'whatever'."_

She rolled her eyes. He thought he was so damn funny, constantly playing on her word choices. As it turned out, he'd actually ordered a large Margherita pizza for them to share; typical, the same flavour of pizza she'd ordered when with Dani. She really hoped that was a coincidence.

"What is it?"

A'isha straightened. "What's what?" she asked after finishing her mouthful.

"Do I need to spell it out for you?"

"I hope I never meet whoever taught you hospitality," she muttered. "Because your so-called hospitable side could really use some work."

"Just answer the question." He pulled another piece from the box. His fourth. Apparently "starved" was not an exaggeration.

"Y'know there's this crazy thing called asking nicely. Or better yet, minding your own business and not making assumptions."

"And there's this novel concept of 'just answer my question.'"

"Well, what is it?"

"I asked you that first."

Another smart ass comment. "You're- You're insufferable!" And she'd just reverted back to that  _one_  word that just fit the jerk so dang well! Boy, she was on fire tonight. Not.

"Are you going to continue this futilely circular verbal dance of yours, or will you end it…" He paused to lean in; his next words barely a whisper. "And tell me what has you so distant, distracted, and distraught?"

"Get away from me!" Ish barked, wasting no time in ensuring that very thing happened herself; harshly shoving a hand into his shoulder as she leaped from the bench. She rushed to wrap her arms across her chest before he could reach for her wrist with his free hand- his right still held a pizza slice.

"Just where do you think you're going?" He sounded amused, more than anything; smirking up at her from the park bench he hadn't bothered to leave.

"Somewhere quiet," she spat, then spun on her heel to march towards a towering tree she remembered all too well.

" _You know, they say wait an hour before swimming." A'isha heard a strained grunt from below as Dani scaled the impressive beech tree that spread its shade across the park. "Pretty sure that advice should extend to tree climbing too." Her blond beau reached the thick branch on which she sat, where he carefully slid across it to reach her side. He heaved an accomplished sigh. "Man, I am_ bushed _!" He snorted. "Get it? Bushed... because we're in a tree."_

 _A'isha bit back laughter as she glanced at the lush grass down below, not at all fazed by the height. An enormous royal poinciana inhabited her backyard in Alexandria, and had become her place of refuge when Elissa was particularly hard to take. Which was_ a lot _. She sighed, shaking her head in amusement at the boy beside her. "Dani, I can't beleaf how lame that joke was."_

 _He was clearly stifling a smirk, stoked to see her playing along. "Yew know, I walnut condone this_ tree _tment!"_

" _Wood you stop cracking silly puns, Mr Dorkness! I'm sycamyore lame jokes."_

" _But good things come in trees!"_

" _I'm really rooting for these puns to stop."_

" _Oakay then. I'll axe the puns."_

_A'isha grinned over at him. She couldn't imagine what life would be like without him. Hopefully she'd never know. Their eyes met, and her exuberant grin shifted to a gentle smile as she sought out his strong, masculine hand, delicately threading their fingers together._

" _I leaf you, Dani."_

" _I leaf you too, Ish."_

And now here she was. In the very spot they'd been months earlier; absently swaying her legs through the air, preoccupied by the fact that she  _had_  found out what life was like without him. It sucked. Why did she do this to herself? Dwell on these memories? Taint them with  _his_  influence? God, she missed Dani. So much. She hoped he was coping without her. Him and everyone else she cared about. She missed them all. When would she see them all again? Or perhaps a better question was...  _would_  she see them all again?

Her cerulean sight shifted to the blond who, to her immense surprise, hadn't left the bench... Well, aside from about two minutes ago when he'd finished off the pizza, and had discarded the empty box in a nearby bin. Now his eyes were closed; his hands coolly threaded together behind his head as he leaned into the bench's back.

A'isha scowled, looking away from her captor to instead stare at everything and nothing, somewhere in the middle distance, though the view was somewhat obscured behind the leaves that laid over the tree like a thick cloak, not even allowing a shred of moonlight to slice through.

There was no way Marik had fallen asleep. He was waiting. . . almost as though he was giving her the peace and quiet she longed for. Like he knew she needed it. But that was ridiculous. He didn't care. Not one bit. He was just messing with her. Confusing the heck out of her. Adding to her ever-growing list of infuriating questions.

Faint footfalls upon concrete prompted her to look down. He was looking up at her from the edge of a footpath near the trunk of the tree, appearing a little disinterested, if anything. "It's nearly nine o'clock," he called out. "Might I suggest that we depart? I'm sure you are more than capable of contemplating from the comfort of our hotel room."

A'isha doubted that. She'd be stuck with Sir Jerk-A-Lot after all.

Though she had to admit she felt a little more at ease after having some time to herself... sort of. Perhaps that was why she was now scaling down the tree with not even a hint of hesitation. No defiance. No stubborn remark. Maybe because he'd almost asked nicely for a change. Or maybe she was just tired- no,  _exhausted_. That must've been it, she decided, as her bare feet met the soft grass; she had removed her chucks, reasoning that climbing bare footed was a treelion times easier.

Marik said nothing, simply watching as she sunk to the ground to slip on her shoes. Half a minute later, she found her feet. "Okay," she sighed. "Shall we?"

"Yes." He turned away from her. "Let's."

* * *

A'isha followed Marik along a busy one-way street lined with piles of parked cars. They'd left their ride in a nearby underground parking lot, causing her to wonder why they hadn't simply parked on this side street. It would've saved them the walk. She rolled her eyes, surmising that Marik probably wanted to ensure his beloved deathtrap, albeit hired, was safe and sound in a secure location.

As it turned out, they were staying at a place called The Liberty Hotel. A'isha had to resist another eye roll as Marik's earlier words danced through her head:  _"_ _You should know by now, Dear A'isha, that nothing I do is without purpose."_  Ten bucks said he'd picked this particular property because 'liberty' is just another word for 'freedom', something she was a far cry away from enjoying anytime soon. That thought only made her wring her fists. The nerve of him!

From the exterior, the hotel appeared as an old, yet well-maintained city villa; two stories high with tall, curved, white windows, charcoal shutters, metal-railed balconies of the same shade and a fresh lick of pale red paint.

It didn't look like much. That was A'isha's thought as they rounded the building. That thought was swept from her mind, replaced by complete and utter awe, as they reached a high archway of smooth stone. Bright lights from within the property clawed away the darkness of night, illuminating a long charcoal rug etched with intricate patterns in a glossy golden shade, which covered a portion of the marble stairs that served as the hotel entrance.

As they crossed the threshold and into the lobby, only one word came to mind. Wow. It felt like she'd stepped back in time, reuniting with the early 1900s. The hotel had an obvious Art Nouveau style, with stunning stained glass lamps, intricately designed furniture, wall and ceiling frescoes, dark woods and light floors. Plants in tall pots with complex patterns lined the edges of the room, and thick red curtains with gold trimmings were draped from a nearby archway.

A'isha followed Marik through that archway to find herself in a much larger space with the same vibe as the first room. Deep wooden arm chairs with pale pink and gold materials were littered throughout the room, beside matching, petite coffee tables. A man in a pressed, black suit occupied one chair, looking at something on his tablet.

To Ish's right was a reception desk constructed of a deeper wood, decorated with another mosaic lamp and a tiny, potted plant. A well-dressed, young woman with red lipstick and white teeth smiled over at them, oblivious to the craziness that was A'isha's misfortune.

"Buonasera!" the receptionist chirped, glancing between the two of them.

"Ciao," A'isha returned as they approached the counter, thankfully knowing at least a little Italian after her first trip here. She figured Marik wouldn't question her knowing such a simple word as 'hello'. Knowing greetings in multiple languages wasn't exactly uncommon.

"Buonasera," Marik said, his tone briefing and to the point. "Ho una camera prenotata con il nome di Sharti."

"Sì, signore." The receptionist navigated a computer, the screen unseen from their angle. "Abbiamo assegnato a una suite?"

"Sì," Marik answered bluntly.

"Un momento per favore," the receptionist politely said, and A'isha watched as she retrieved a sheet of paper from one of the desk's many drawers. Then she set it on the counter, along with a black pen bearing the hotel's insignia in gold font. "Per favore, posso chiedere di leggere e firmare questo documento?"

Marik gave the sheet of paper – probably hotel rules and what not – a brief once over, then scribbled something at the bottom. Unfortunately, A'isha failed to glimpse what was most likely his signature before he handed the document back to the woman across from them.

"Grazie mille," she stated with a curt nod and a warm smile; then handed him a pouch that, again, bore the hotel's gold insignia against a black background on its front, and probably contained their room's key card. In a small gold-coloured oblong at the very bottom of the pouch, A'isha caught sight of the word "Sharti" in the receptionist's steady strokes, beside a room number – 202.

"Spero che ti piaccia stare qui!" the receptionist continued with that same inviting smile. "Se c'è qualcosa che potrebbe rendere il vostro soggiorno più piacevole fatemelo o di un altro membro del personale so."

A'isha had barely caught a word of that. Something about enjoying their room. She figured the second half was just the woman telling them to ask if they needed anything or something of that nature. The receptionist went on to explain the way to their room. At least, A'isha figured that's what the woman was doing, with all the hand gestures and arm waving.

"Grazie," the Egyptian duo said in sync, once the lady had stopped speaking. Marik glanced at her then, smirking slightly. Probably because they had thanked her simultaneously.

A'isha only shrugged. "Lead the way."

* * *

Marik had, of course, booked what was probably the fanciest room the hotel had on offer. The Art Nouveau style was evident throughout, from the antique furniture to the extravagant chandeliers that hung from the high ceilings, or the elegant curtains and even the intricate patterns etched upon the beige walls and doors. Their suite consisted of a spacious living area, a grand bathroom and another room which looked to be the bedroom, if the generously sized bed she'd sneaked a peek of from where she stood was any indication. A'isha immediately noticed a problem.

"Where am I sleeping?"

"The couch."

Her hate-o-meter officially sky rocketed. "You book a place like this and don't even bother to ask for a second bed?!"

Marik shrugged. "This is the only room they had to offer on such short notice."

"This is probably one of their fanciest rooms!"

Marik rolled his eyes as he headed into the bedroom. She skulked along in his wake, briefly registering that their luggage had been left on a shelf near the bed that was seemingly for that purpose, and that there was a door on the other side of the bed. It must have led to an ensuite.

"Naturally, the last room to sell out would be one of their more extravagant ones." He sought out one of his two bags and, when he unzipped it to retrieve what looked like a toiletry bag, A'isha was almost surprised to find the thing wasn't full of rocks. "Patrons will generally book a cheaper room if one is available."

"So you couldn't have just asked for a roll away bed?" she said like it was a no-brainer.

He turned to her, toiletry bag in hand. "An upscale establishment such as this does not offer roll away beds. They have convertible sofas in some of their eighteen rooms; however, not in this one."

A'isha sighed, knowing there was no point in fighting a losing battle. "Well do I at least have a blanket?" She'd scrunch up some clothes as a make shift pillow, figuring he wouldn't lend her one of his.

"Yes, you have a blanket." He showed a sickly sweet smile. "It's this funny thing called a thermostat."

"I seriously hope you're screwing with me right now."

He smirked. "Is that an invitation?" A wink followed the statement, prompting a look of revulsion to sweep across her face. She hated the blush that suddenly had her cheeks burning.

"In- In your dreams!"

"I'll let you know in the morning." Another wink. Oh, how she hated him!

With an aggravated huff, A'isha snatched her bag off the floor and stormed out of the room, muttering under her breath all the while. When she heard the click of a door behind her, she was surprised to find the bedroom door was still open. She figured he'd gone into his ensuite, though she didn't give the thought any more head-space than that. Mulling over Marik in the bathroom? No thanks.

A'isha replaced her tampon, brushed her teeth, and changed into something more comfortable. Her outfit of choice was a baggy shirt and pants, like the many others she'd selected back in Marina. Fortunately, they made great pajamas. She tossed her jeans and tank top on her bag, figuring they were still clean enough to wear tomorrow after only half a day's use. Really, she'd only chosen two other outfits back in Marina that were suitable for public wear, so she had to make do somehow.

After rummaging through cabinets and drawers, she was dismayed to find nothing that could double as a blanket. She knew the bedroom would likely yield more promising results, but, as Marik had since left his ensuite and was now vegging out on the bed with a magazine, A'isha couldn't bring herself to enter the room. Being in the same hotel suite as the jerk was bad enough.

That was why, after cranking the thermostat a few degrees above room temperature, A'isha had spread out – and she used that term loosely – on the burgundy red two seater couch. She had scrunched up the black zip up jacket she'd worn that day, using it as a makeshift pillow, and her only other outerwear, a thick ebony jumper, was her blanket of choice. Wonderful. Or as Italians would say... stupendo!

Dealing with Marik was enough to make anyone  _beyond_  exhausted, which was likely why she'd zonked out not even a minute after closing her eyes, drifting off into a strange dream involving Blondie, a closet and potato soup. She was sure she'd had it before.

* * *

A'isha had no clue of how much time had ticked by when the hiss of steam and the rumble of bubbling water lulled her to the land of the wake. She breathed deeply through her nose, imitating a lethargic cat as she stretched out on the sofa, tangled beneath her blanket-

Wait.

Her eyes snapped open. The make-shift jumper that was her blanket had been replaced with an actual one. Had Marik... No. That didn't make sense. He doesn't care.

Movement from the corner of her eye stole her attention. When she glanced toward the kitchenette portion of the room, embarrassment slapped her hard across the face. He was wearing nothing but black boxer briefs. And they were tight. Far too tight. Not at all surprisingly, he was preparing what she'd bet her non-existent money was a black coffee.

" _Please don't turn around..."_  was all Ish could begin to think. And she would've ripped her eyes away right then and there, before he realised she was watching, had something else not caught her eye. His back. It bore a strange tattoo, depicting images of what almost looked like Duel Monsters and a myriad of hieroglyphics she couldn't even begin to decipher. She did recognise one though – the ankh at the very centre of the tattoo...

Seemingly oblivious to her gaze, Marik reached for some unseen item on the kitchenette bench, exposing his back to more of the dim lighting overhead. Her stomach churned then. It wasn't a tattoo at all. The light wasn't hitting it right... the skin was bumpy and jagged, not smooth. She was oh-so-close to calling him a masochist, but he'd only throw some snarky remark back at her. And that was something she was in no way prepared for even when he was  _fully_ clothed.

A'isha's blue orbs travelled from his back to the antique clock that hung over the bathroom door. 4:22 AM.

"Do you one hundred percent run on coffee?"

If Marik was surprised to hear her, he didn't show it. When he turned to face her, coffee mug in hand, hair slightly askew and face free of that girly eyeliner, A'isha's sights shifted to the ceiling. So very tight indeed were those boxer briefs.

"Actually, I run eighty percent on coffee, ten percent on sleep, and the last ten percent on the sweet, sweet misfortune of others."

"Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that you're not lying?"

She heard him laugh from where he casually leaned against the bench, sipping away at that eighty percent portion of his energy. "In all honesty, I've managed a few hours of sleep."

A'isha closed her eyes. The lights overhead were a little too bright for such an ungodly hour. "Is it by choice that you don't manage more?"

He didn't answer. Though she did hear a few soft steps, followed by the abrupt  _knock_  of something solid meeting wood. Probably his mug on the small dining table.

"You'll be pleased to know that I didn't have any engrossing dreams." She didn't miss the touch of amusement that lined those words as he pointedly avoided her query.

"Gee, thanks. My life feels so much more enriched knowing that lovely little detail."

"I  _did_  say I'd let you know in the morning."

She heaved a sigh, groggily rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Should I expect a ridiculously early wake-up call every morning till Sunday?"

Marik chuckled. "If you'd packed that shirt I bought you, perhaps you could have made use of those earplugs. Their sole purpose is not to block out your foolish cousin's endless rambling."

A'isha pried one eye open then, peeking over at the jerk who occupied one of four seats around dining table. "How do you know I didn't pack them?"

"Because I have them. And the shirt."

She glared at him. "Let me guess, grabbing that shirt was Bryn's last minute errand?"

"Of course."

"Typical." A'isha groaned, covering her eyes with her arm. "I still refuse to wear it," she added a few seconds later.

"Suit yourself." His voice regained that unsettling mirth as he continued; "You'll have ample time to salvage any lost sleep during the day, anyway."

Her interest piqued at that. "What do you mean? I'll be stuck with you, won't I?"

Marik snorted, clearly amused. "Of course not, silly girl. I wish to traverse and appreciate Catania. You'll only be a hindrance."

A'isha sent him an incredulous look. She had a feeling she'd pieced together his intentions, but refused to get her hopes up just yet. This  _was_ Sir Jerk-A-Lot after all! "So what am I supposed to do? Just stay here?"

"I'm relieved to be in the company of someone so perceptive."

And suddenly her day was a million times better! She didn't even care that he'd answered in such a snide way. A'isha simply couldn't wait to have some time to herself, with no creeps to annoy the snot out of her! Her mind then screeched to an abrupt halt.

"Wait- What about food?"

"We will go get breakfast, after which I will return you to this lovely suite of ours." He revealed a mocking smile. "I may even bring you dinner tonight. And as for lunch, you have a limit of fifteen euros to use for room service. If I return tonight to find more than that has been billed to our room, there will be repercussions."

 _You stingy bastard! That'll probably buy me only a single slice of pizza in a fancy place like this!_ What irked her the most was that he was, without a doubt, insanely loaded. He was the  _leader_  of the  _Rare Hunters_! He wouldn't miss a hundred euros, let alone fifteen!

A'isha sighed, surmising that an empty stomach was among the least of her problems right now. Which only raised the question... What was to stop her from escaping or, at the very least, contacting the local authorities? He wouldn't be watching her. She hoped.

"Don't forget, Dear A'isha, that little Amara is still on my ship." Mister Manipulative's eyes narrowed dangerously, though it was hard to take him seriously when all he wore was boxer briefs. In fact, from the current angle at which she watched him, he could even pass for butt naked. She barely stifled a laugh upon realising. "If you are idiotic enough to attempt an escape and if, by some miracle, you succeed and are therefore not around to regret it, the consequences will instead fall on her."

And just like that, he'd ripped that prior amusement out from under her, prompting her Marik hate-o-meter to bump up another notch.

"Why are you even gracing me with your  _absence_?"

"Astonishingly, my sole purpose in life is not to, as you would say, torture you. The only reason you're here is for the proposition on Sunday." Marik slowly reclined into the seat, eyes easing shut, legs crossed, hands coolly threaded together behind his neck. "Aside from that, I really have no use for you, as entertaining as you may be to 'torture'."

A'isha chose to say nothing. She wasn't about to open her big mouth and risk fate's cruel hands getting an easy shot. She wanted- no,  _needed_  some alone time. For the sake of her sanity. With a dreary sigh, she shuffled around on the couch to face the wall, turning her back on her company. Ish could feel his eyes on her, could hear the occasional hushed sipping of coffee, the rhythmic drumming of fingers upon the table. It was unsettling. She'd given up on drifting off again any time soon. Like that was about to happen with him in the same room. Instead, she was trying to convince herself that she wasn't at all grateful for the blanket. It was basically her right to have the thing! Yeah, she'd go with that...

"I will wake you up half an hour before breakfast," Marik finally spoke up a few minutes later. "I imagine that will be a suitable length of time to get decent?"

"Mm."

A'isha felt a nudge on her shoulder. . . then another. . . and another.

Her face scrunched up. "I don't wanna babysit," she murmured in her semi-conscious state, blindly smacking a dismissive hand at the air.

"I believe you have our roles reversed, little Ish."

She stiffened, sucking in air as she registered that the voice was definitely not her uncle's. Reality caught up with her a moment later. She was stuck in Italy with The R.H. . . Fan-freaking-tastic.

"Get up. We leave in half an hour." She heard a few steps, followed by the zip of a bag from Marik's bedroom.

A'isha furrowed her brows, confusion racking her brain. She didn't even remember drifting back to sleep. How had she managed such a feat with Creeper McCreeperson in the same room? Heck, the guy had been staring at her too. Ignoring the fact she'd managed that very thing back in his room that one time while watching Star Trek, A'isha instead found herself hoping for the millionth time that he hadn't used the rod on her. After all, Amara blacked out when he used it on her. What if she was the same? Maybe she'd been unconscious, not asleep. Who knew what the weirdo could be doing to her against her knowledge?!

Half of her wanted to ask him up front if he was using his fancy twig on her. The other half knew he'd lie even if he was.  _I really need to stop working myself up by being so paranoid,_  she thought in a semi-successful attempt to ease her nerves.

"I don't hear any movement in there," she heard Marik call out.

"Hakuna your tatas!" A'isha returned, not even bothering to pry her eyes open.

There was a slight pause. "What in the name of Ra does that even mean?"

"You know?" She paused to yawn long and loud, stretching as she did. "Take a chill pill. Cool your jets. Calm your tits. Relax your sac-"

"Are you done?"

Her eyes snapped open to find him leaning on his shoulder against the bedroom doorway, sending her an unimpressed look. His hair was wrapped up in a plain, white towel, suggesting that he was fresh out of the shower. She noticed his arms were folded across his bare chest. . . but at least he'd put some pants on.

"I suggest you get a move on." He cocked his head to the left as that unimpressed look gave way to a crooked smirk. "I don't plan on waiting for you. Either you're ready when I leave for breakfast, or you'll just have to juggle that fifteen euros between both breakfast and lunch. And possibly dinner." His smirk shifted to a sickly sweet smile. "Unless I'm feeling generous. Then perhaps I'll bring back something to satiate you."

A'isha ignored his snide remarks. She might have even been beginning to get used to them. Whether that was a good thing or not, she still hadn't decided. "I was just planning on going down there as I am. Well- I'll brush my hair, but I can just wear these baggy clothes." His expression told her that wasn't going to fly before his mouth said so in a more Marik-like manner.

"I refuse to be seen with you in such inappropriate attire."

"Inappropriate?" she shrieked defensively, rushing to her feet. "This has to be one of the most conservative outfits I could wear and-"

"This is an upscale hotel," he interrupted in a casual tone, sparing a glance at the watch on his left wrist. It must have been waterproof. "Either you wear something a little more civilised or you don't eat. Simple."

A'isha plastered what she hoped was a particularly sour scowl on her face. "Fine," she grumbled, trying hard not to storm over to collect her things. She managed a brisk walk, scooped up her bag and rushed into the bathroom, barely resisting the urge to slam the door shut in her wake.

* * *

A'isha was ready with roughly ten minutes to spare. She never really took long to get ready, unless she actually tried to look semi-decent, which only happened once in a blue moon. She'd changed her tampon, showered quickly, towel-dried her hair, and had chucked on some deodorant before finally slipping into the same attire she'd worn the previous afternoon – her red skinny jeans and striped tank top; though she'd settled on black ballerina flats instead of chucks, simply because they were easier to slip on and off. It's not like she'd be wearing them long.

"You're either super gay or the vainest straight guy on the planet."

Marik glowered at A'isha through the mirror, setting a fancy looking hair drier down on the bedroom vanity. He'd brought his own. "I'm neither," he muttered dryly, rummaging through his toiletry bag to pull out a strangely shaped tube that looked old enough to belong in a museum.

"Your beauty routine puts Amara's to shame," A'isha pointed out from her place in the doorway, watching as Marik unwound the lid of the tube to reveal what appeared to be an Ancient Egyptian application stick, like one she'd seen at the Cairo Museum during one of those rare family trips Ahad used to make her go on. She arched a brow as he flicked eye-liner across his lids, then under his eyes, making it look unbelievably easy. "How long have you been wearing that stuff?"

"That  _stuff_  is called kohl."

"And how long have you been wearing it?" she repeated, a hint of sass in her tone.

"Years."

"Is it a coincidence that Odion wears kohl too?" She quirked a brow. "He even wears it in the same pattern as you."

At that, Marik decided to either be deaf or mute, though she didn't miss the minute amount of surprise that crossed his countenance. That only had A'isha assuming she was heading down the right track in thinking that Odion wasn't a mere "servant". But she decided to leave it at that for now, surmising that he wouldn't be much of a conversationalist, if his current silence was any indication. Ish instead returned to the present.

"So where do you plan on going today?"

After effortlessly clipping on his jewellery, Marik spritzed his wrists, neck and clothes in a cologne she didn't recognise. It looked expensive. A few seconds passed before she discovered it smelt expensive too. If he had been anyone else, she might've asked what it was. The scent was strong, masculine and it sure as heck lingered; it would be right up Dani's alley. Ish had almost forgotten she'd asked him what his plans were when he finally answered.

"Piazza Duomo."

 _Someone has a hard on for architecture,_ A'isha thought with an amused snort. She translated the words into something a little more appropriate and a lot less embarrassing. "Gonna look at some more Baroque architecture, huh?"

Marik sent a pointed look her way. "How do you know of Piazza Duomo?"

"The brochure stand in the pizza parlour had some stuff about it." Even she was surprised by how easily the lie had come to her. Hell, she was almost convinced.

Marik seemed to buy it. Maybe. Hopefully. It was sort of hard to tell.

"I see."

Maybe not.

Marik eyed her one second longer, then turned away to retrieve a leather jacket from atop his already made bed, and shrugged into the outerwear. He was already geared up in a white, button-up collared shirt with short sleeves, deep blue denim jeans and black, leather shoes she'd seen him wear a few times now.

A'isha sighed, deciding to continue a little chit chat. Partly because he was being a little less of a jerk than usual, but mostly because she could almost see the clockworks turning in his mind, mulling over her lie just now. She didn't want him to have any head space dedicated towards deciding if she had or hadn't been to Catania before he'd come along and started messing with her life.

"Piazza Duomo can't be all you're doing today."

Marik chuckled to himself, leaning over to grab something unseen from the far side of his bed. She realised it was a back pack when he straightened and slung it over one shoulder. "Planning on calling the authorities to disclose my whereabouts, are we?"

"Well now that you mention it..."

He sent her an unamused look that almost made her smirk. Almost. She shrugged instead. "I'm just wondering how much of my day will be jerk-free." When he didn't look convinced, she rolled her eyes. "If I use the phone to rat you out, you'll know. If the authorities found you, that rod would be all you need to avoid arrest. And if I leave the hotel room in search of help from – say – the police, you still have Amara as leverage. Also, I can't leave and rat you out, thereby avoiding you tracing me by phone, and then act like nothing happened upon your return. . . I don't have a key to get back into our room."

"You've put a considerable amount of thought into finding a way out of your...predicament."

"It's a no brainer, really," she muttered, glaring at nothing and everything. "But according to you, I always have a choice in all this mess."

"And I stand by that." He gave himself a once over in the mirror, then turned to face her. Of course he was smirking. "You  _do_  always have a choice. Whether or not the pros outweigh the cons is up to you to decide, as you have done."

A'isha scoffed. "Some choice you're giving me. Gain freedom but lose my cousin, or stay stuck with an egomaniac."

Marik left his room, gesturing for her to follow. "If I'm honest, I must say that I'm flattered. Truly." His unsettling smile was ever-present as he faced her just shy of the exit, dumping his bag by the door. She figured he planned on retrieving it after breakfast, while escorting her back to the room that would serve as her prison for the day. Or rather, her sanctuary.

She arched a brow. "Why flattered?"

"Because you'd rather be stuck with me than lose that bumbling idiot you call a cousin."

"All I got out of that sentence is that you  _do_ realise how ridiculously insufferable you are."

A'isha loathed the smile he gave her. It told her he'd expected that comment. He was laughing at her. As if she wasn't enough of a morning person as is. Without a word, he eased the door open and headed out into the hallway. Sadly, she wasn't far behind.

* * *

Having expected to make use of the hotel's buffet breakfast, A'isha was surprised as Marik led her to a quaint cafe a block away from The Liberty Hotel. That surprise paled in comparison to his sudden shift in mannerisms from the second they'd arrived at the place.

For starters, he'd opened the cafe door for her, sending a creepily warm smile her way as she entered the establishment – not thanking him, of course. Then he'd revealed a dashing smile as he'd said something in Italian to make their waitress burst out into a fit of giggles. After a subtle glance at the tag on the girl's shirt, he'd even addressed her by name: Carina. Now he was wearing a small smile as his lavender eyes scanned one of the menus Carina had given them.

Meanwhile, across the table, A'isha was seething. He must have been acting all wonderful to freak her out. Probably trying to make out he wasn't as insufferable as she claimed him to be. As if he wasn't infuriating enough when he wasn't trying to be.

"You know, superficial charm is a sign of psychopathy."

Marik looked up from the menu and glanced around the cafe. Perhaps he was checking that no one was in earshot. "Hmm. A scintillating conversation topic." He revealed a look of mock thoughtfulness. "Other signs of psychopathy include an inflated sense of self-worth, constant need for stimulation. . . conning people or being manipulative. Then there's compulsive lying, lack of remorse. . . callousness. . . shallow emotions–"

"It's like you're describing yourself," A'isha interrupted with a sweet smile.

"I wouldn't say that." His tone was so casual that he could've been commenting on the weather. "Some further signs include poor control over one's behaviour, being impulsive or irresponsible, promiscuous sexual behaviour, blaming others, refusing to accept responsibility and a lack of realistic, long term goals; none of which describe me."

"Please tell me you're joking." She rolled her eyes when he remained silent, seemingly awaiting further elaboration on her part. "Okay. For a start, you say you have good control over your behaviour; so why did you almost stab me on day one of my all-expenses-paid-for-with-pain-and-suffering cruise to Crete?"

Marik's eyes travelled somewhere over her shoulder. Her mind immediately wandered back to their bra shopping session in Marina, when he'd seen the shop attendant coming and said some irritating comment to bait her, knowing she'd have no time to correct him. A'isha knew the waitress was heading toward them. "Don't you dare," she growled, pointing a warning finger his way.

"Do what?" he said, sounding just as confused as he looked. The tone carried onto his next words, but the look was replaced by the beginnings of a smirk. "Tear apart your undeniably poor observation of my mental state?"

"You're so predictable."

Marik leaned across the table. "You must be rubbing off on me," he copied her words from the previous night.

A'isha's face scrunched up in disgust, remembering the perverse grin he'd sent her way after she'd delivered that comeback. That realisation only made her hate him that much more for stealing the phrase. . . if that was even possible.

"Scusami?"

Their waitress, a pretty young thing , had returned. A bubbly smile lit up her lightly tanned complexion, particularly when Marik returned the expression with equal vigour. His whole charming charade was almost wretch-worthy.

"Sei pronto per ordinare?" Carina asked, paying perhaps a little more mind to Marik than to her.

A'isha knew she should've been more than fine with that, but the only thing running through her mind in that moment was that he was a complete and utter pig, wooing this poor, ignorant girl. She briefly wondered if he pulled stuff like this to get into girls' pants.  _Probably,_  she decided, frowning.

"Posso tornare in cinque minuti," the girl continued.

Marik glanced across the table. "Are you ready to order, Ish?" The warm smile pasted upon his lips was almost as terrifying as his cheerful tone of voice.

"Sure," Ish slowly said, barely masking her bitterness.

His attention turned to Carina once more. "Parli inglese? La mia fidanzata non parla italiano."

A'isha stiffened at the latter of his words. She may not know much Italian, but she sure as heck knew what fidanzata meant. . . Curious, Dani had looked up the Italian equivalent of the word before their trip to Italy, insisting it might come in handy if he needed to tell someone she was his girlfriend. . . Fidanzanta was synonymous too, also translating to fiancée.

Carina nodded, withdrawing a pen and notebook from the front pocket of her apron. "I sure do."

"Perfect. We're both ready to order." Smile never wavering, he gestured across the table to A'isha. "Ladies first."

A'isha quickly scanned the menu, trying to recall what her chosen meal was called. "Could I please have the. . . fruit Macedonia?" She bit her lip briefly. "And… a hot chocolate, too, please?"

"Of course!" Carina chirped, scribbling the order down. She turned to Marik, smiling slightly wider. "And for you, sir?"

"I'm in the mood for a cornetto vuoto please!" He tapped a spot on his menu twice. "And a black coffee would be great too. I can't function without a generous dose of caffeine at regular intervals."

The pained look on A'isha's face said it all.  _Get me out of here._

"No problem," Carina announced with another giggle, returning her stationary to the front pocket of her apron. "I'll have those out for you shortly."

Another friendly smile. "Thanks, Carina."

"Yeah. . ." A'isha added with a sigh. "Thank you, Carina." She watched as the girl spun on her heel and headed behind the counter, a spring in her step the whole way. It seemed Marik was making Carina's day. Meanwhile, thanks to Creeper McCreeperson, Ish was swiftly growing more and more eager to bang her head against the hardest wall in their room for the rest of the day. Maybe then she'd forget how disgustingly friendly he was being.

Unfortunately, the only way that 'Marik' and 'forgettable' would ever work in a sentence would be if someone was to pop the word  _isn't_  in between them; something A'isha was becoming far too painfully aware of.

Their food came promptly, something A'isha was very grateful for. After all, the sooner she chowed down her breakfast, the sooner she'd be jerk-free with a hotel room to herself. Her fruit salad was gone in five minutes. Unfortunately, Marik was eating at a more leisurely pace. Who knew eating a plain croissant could be stretched out like that? A'isha tried oh so hard to hold her tongue, knowing he'd only drag out their time together that much more if she complained. Her efforts failed to stop a grimace from forming on her face. But the second a knowing smirk snaked across his lips, her grimace vanished. She refused to tempt him to press her further by showing her frustrations. . . well, if she could help it.

After an eternity – at least it felt like that long thanks to Mr Smooth Talker – their waitress was ringing up their order on the cash register. A'isha paid little mind to her torturer as he blabbed on and on to Carina in Italian. She didn't want to throw up her breakfast. Heck, if she hadn't spewed her guts out earlier that week thanks to her monthly visitor, she was sure her breakfast would  _already_  be on the freshly polished, wooden floor beneath them.

Her eyes travelled to the glass cabinet before her, displaying a generous assortment of sweet and savoury baked goods. Not only were they reasonably priced. They all looked delicious too. Especially the lasagne! A thought occurred to her then.

"Hey, Marik?"

The boy in question glanced over at her, still "smiling" at something Carina had said. "Yeah, Ish?" he asked as sweetly as ever. In that moment, A'isha nearly lost her will to keep her breakfast down.

"Can I use my fifteen euros on something from the cabinet?" A'isha figured she'd get way more bang for her buck buying lunch here than she would using room service.

She saw him give her the most subtle raise of his eyebrow and she swore she could see the gears turning. It lasted not even a second before Marik grinned, and for a very brief moment she was sure the guy actually looked somewhat impressed. "Of course you can!" His bubbly tone implied he had no clue why she'd even  _think_  to ask something so obvious. She'd bet her non-existent lucky stars he'd find the dinner date act to be a total cinch. If only she had as much faith in her own acting abilities or, rather, her ability to tolerate him.

"I'll even let you choose something sweet in addition to what you choose for lunch." Those words lacked the prior bubbliness and that was admittedly frightening.

After wiping the increasingly common combination of unease and shock from her face, A'isha had picked out the lasagne she'd been eyeing up, along with a ricciarelli, a type of Italian macaroon that A'isha had enjoyed many a time on her last visit. The cafe had a heap of them on display, probably because it was a commonly consumed baked good around Christmas, only five days away. She had refused to thank Sir Jerk-A-Lot as he'd handed over her lunch. That hadn't stopped the smart ass "you're welcome" from leaving his lips a moment later, prompting her to roll her eyes, then wonder how many times she'd done so these last six days. Six. Long. Torturous. Days.

"So," Marik slowly spoke as they wandered along a pedestrian crossing, a few minutes from their hotel. A'isha didn't miss the familiar and strangely more settling iciness his voice now possessed, in place of the mock sincerity she'd heard back in the cafe. "Have you travelled much in your time?"

A'isha scowled. "I'd ask why you care," she muttered, "but you've already established that you apparently don't."

Marik quirked a brow in obvious amusement. "So you'd rather walk in silence?"

"Uh,  _yeah_."

"Such a scintillating conversationalist."

"What do you expect?"

"Did it hurt?"

A'isha blinked twice. "What?" Understanding replaced confusion a second later. "This had better not be one of those stupid 'when you fell from Heaven' or ' when you broke through the earth's crust ascending from Hell' jokes."

"Actually, I was going to say 'when you swallowed a lifetime's supply of lemons'." She was sure his grin was genuine, and couldn't decide what was more unsettling: the grin itself, or that she seemed to be getting used to it.

"You can talk, Mr Stick Up His Ass 24/7." Besides, she was nothing but friendly to those who returned the kindness. Ish was a firm believer in 'treat people how you want to be treated. . . but if they treat you like total crap then all bets are off'.

"You know, I do believe we've been making progress." His smirk returned. "Five days ago, I doubt you would have had the nerve to address me as anything beyond a jerk, bastard or some equivalent."

Another sweet smile. "Well apparently you  _need_  me."

"In one piece, yes." His smile matched hers. "Perhaps you are becoming a little too comfortable around me."

"Excuse me while I hurl," she grumbled. "What are you gonna do? Stab me with your magic phallic symbol?"

"Phallic symbol." Marik snorted. "That's a new one. Though not exactly accurate." His sweet smile was swept away by a perverse smirk. "It's nowhere near as big."

A'isha barely suppressed a gag amid the shock of his anything but subtle ego stroke, and the regret at basically setting herself up for it. Penis size jokes. Splendid. "I figured the rod was over-compensating for something," she said lightly, avoiding his laughing gaze as he no doubt enjoyed the clear discomfort ridden across her features. And then she realised she'd asked if he was going to stab her with his magic phallic symbol. . . Her cheeks flushed instantly. Where was a rock she could crawl under to die of embarrassment when she needed one?

"Now then." A knowing smirk slowly slid across his lips. "Would you prefer to walk in silence? Or should I ask that question again?"

A'isha glowered at him. Walking in silence, lingering on the aftermath of her embarrassment, sounded downright painful now. She groaned, deciding to swallow her pride. Just this once. "You start," she stated, sparing a glance left and right before they crossed another street. "You must have been all over the place with what you do."

He gave a curt nod. "Yes, I'm very well-travelled. As you mentioned, it comes with the profession." She bit back a snide remark about his supposed 'profession', if he could call it that. "I've been all over Europe, to North America a handful of times and to a lot of Northern Africa." He raised a hand to his chin in thought. "If I were to choose favourites, Brunelleschi's Dome in Florence is spectacular. The waterways of Venice are unique. I've stayed in the Burj al Arab in Dubai."

A'isha cocked a brow. "That fancy seven star hotel that looks like a ship?" Wait- was she actually mildly interested? She shook her head slightly, dismissing the thought as utterly ridiculous.

He nodded.

"Was it fancy?"

"What do you expect?"

A'isha huffed, not bothering to answer.

"I've also been all over Asia. Singapore is a favourite. The modern architecture is beyond intriguing to see. I especially enjoyed the Gardens By The Bay."

"I actually really want to see those funky looking metal flowers."

"You seem to be quite knowledgeable about travel yourself." He cocked his head to the right, looking her way once more. "Where have you been?"

"I've seen a lot of the UK. Julie's from there... more specifically, she's from London. And almost every year her family go for two weeks around Christmas to visit relatives in London and Brighton."

"Were you meant to go this year?"

"No." She heaved a sigh. "Julie's family surprised her with a trip to Italy for her birthday." She cleared her throat awkwardly when his eyes narrowed; was he wondering if they'd cross paths with her? "I don't know when or where she's going though."

He seemed to relax a little. "So you weren't joining them?"

"Actually, I found out her parents had asked Ahad and Elissa, figuring they'd surprise me with the trip too, but..." Another sigh. "Elissa said no."

"Let me guess." He smirked. "Your aunt needed a babysitter?"

"And she got one," A'isha scoffed. "You."

Marik surprised her with a laugh that she  _knew_ was genuine. "By Ra, you're enough hard work on your own."

"To me, that's a compliment."

He chuckled. "Though if I'm honest, I'm preferential to you over your halfwit cousin."

"You? Honest?"

"More than you think."

Ish snorted. "Bending the truth doesn't count." She briefly wondered why she knew that line. . . then it hit her like a fifty carriage train of utter humiliation. That damn dream she'd had about him. That totally terrifying dream. . .  _Thanks, Brain, for conjuring up that one._

Marik's laugh yanked her from that thought. "I'm banking that line for later." Of course, he agreed with the line her brain had found fitting for the infuriating jerk.

"Typical," she quietly muttered, relieved as they finally reached the stairs that led to their accommodation.

The remaining few minutes were spent in silence, A'isha following Marik up a flight of stairs they'd descended maybe an hour and a half earlier. He withdrew the card to their room, unlocked the door and easily pushed it aside.

Anticipation bubbled right beneath the surface as A'isha entered their suite, creating a mental checklist of all the things she could do while he was gone. Watch TV, listen to the radio, sing, dance, take a looong shower for the hell of it. . . even doodle something or other with the pencil and paper she'd spotted in a drawer.

Marik's words soon sliced through her scheming. "My bag, if you will."

A'isha was suddenly in too good a mood to be irked by his bossiness. The sooner he was gone, the better. She glanced at the bag by her feet, then realised she was sort of in his way, seeing as she still stood in the entryway, while he was keeping the door from shutting with his left foot. "Alright," she stated, sliding the plastic bag in her hand, containing her lunch, onto her wrist in order to lug the surprisingly light pack off the ground. She tried to hide her excitement as she handed the bag to her soon-to-be-gone company.

Ish knew she'd failed when Marik's trademark smirk appeared. "Don't have too much fun without me," he goaded, throwing one bag strap over his left shoulder.

"I'll try not to," she said sarcastically.

Silent, he watched her for a moment longer, wearing that same smirk. And then, with the quiet click of the door, he was gone. Soft, calculated steps faded down the hallway, followed by the sound of leather shoes upon wooden stairs. Then nothing.

Only then did A'isha spin on her heel to face the room, savouring the sweet sound of silence. Her face lit up as the biggest grin she'd worn in a long while slid across her lips. She was alone. With TV. Radio. And no Mister High and Mighty.

"HELL YES!" she burst out, thrusting her arms high in the air. The crackling of the plastic bag was distant to her ears as she pranced around the room, busting out into a full blown dance of sheer happiness. "No more Mister Creeeeeepy! No more Mister Creeeeeepy!" she started to sing, imitating Michael Jackon's moonwalk near perfectly.

A minute passed before A'isha completely dispelled that overwhelming joy from her system. With a deep sigh, her eyes slowly scanned the room. "Now then," she chirped, rubbing her hands together. "What to do first. . ."


	19. Chapter 18: Pondering Over Pasta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry, just a few notes before we start the chapter. We're kinda taking bits and pieces from the American and Japanese versions of Yu-Gi-Oh. Bits from the manga might appear too. An example of this? American version: Using dub names (eg. Joey, Tristan, Duke, etc.) and Domino will be in America because poor Ish is already being thrown through the ringer enough without a language barrier. Japanese version: In this fic, Marik was ten when he received the Tomb Keeper's Initiation and eleven when he left the tomb, following Worst Dad Ever's death. Also, just a disclaimer- we don't own any of the songs or shows mentioned in this chapter, and all of Marik's opinions are his own, with any hypocrisy he exhibits being intentional. The hypocrisy bit will probably make sense after scene three of the chapter. Please enjoy the reading!

**Chapter Eighteen: Pondering Over Pasta**

"Hello, signore!"

Marik blinked twice, tearing his eyes away from the empty seat across from him. He was met by the welcoming smile of his waiter, a boy by the name of Arlo, with olive skin, a buzz cut and boyish features. When the boy had seated him, Marik had also discovered that he spoke fluent English, albeit in a thick Italian accent.

"Are you ready to order?" the waiter continued, maintaining a friendly air about him. "Or would you like a little more time?"

"The Busiate Al Pesto Trapanese will suffice." Lavender pools shifted to the drinks menu that stood tall at the table's centre. "And a Cognac on ice, if you will."

"Of course." The once over Arlo gave him was enough to piece together his impending question. "May I please see some ID for-" Arlo's words came to an abrupt end as a flash of golden light burned briefly upon his forehead. "I will have your Busiate and Cognac on ice out shortly, signore."

A slight smirk snaked across Marik's lips as he watched Arlo's retreating form; however, as his attention returned to the empty seat, that smirk was erased by a frown. He refused to acknowledge its existence, let alone its source.

Instead, Marik focused on the steady beat of his fingers as they drummed against the table. It was an infuriating habit he was all too aware of, tapping his fingers against the nearest surface available to him. Something he often did when vexed, troubled or – in this case – both. Stubbornness stopped him dead in his tracks, steering him away from fleeting thoughts that were foreign to him.

The crisp ocean air floated through the nearby open window to breathe a soft sigh across his dark skin. As trivial and childish as it sounded, Marik loved the serene sensation of the wind sliding over him. Sometimes, after a particularly nerving day, he would find himself standing at the bow of his boat, staring out at the seemingly endless sea for hours on end as he drowned in his very own sea of serpentine thoughts until, finally, his mind went blank. Or as close it as was possible for him.

He'd stopped drumming his fingers.

Marik glanced left. The sea was right there, lustrous and shimmering in the sunlight like countless turquoise gems; smooth and serene as it bowed before the cloudless sky, tinted a brilliant shade of cerulean. The makings of a smile flittered onto Marik's lips. There was a beach within walking distance. Perhaps he'd have to pay it a visit after lunch.

Marik straightened as a sudden, unexpected cry of exasperation sliced through his serenity. Upon glancing left, he found an obviously flustered boy, pained expression and all, desperately watching the girl across from him. Said girl was busy glowering at the pasta on her plate like it was the most despicable thing to ever be introduced to her palate. He hoped not. It looked like the dish he'd just ordered.

"Izzy!" the boy growled, probably in his late teens or early twenties. "Would you stop giving me the silent treatment?"

"Jamie!" the girl mocked sarcastically. "Would  _you_  stop being a total jerk?"

Marik barely bit back a laugh at the fact the fool had gotten his wish. She certainly wasn't giving him the silent treatment any more. Though he bet Jamie now wished he'd kept his mouth shut, considering the exasperation littered across his face had twisted into a less than healthy dose of embarrassment. What did he expect? His girlfriend clearly had no control over her emotions. She was a female. Emotionally unstable. Easily offended over the most trivial of things. The weaker of the two sexes. If he knew what was good for him, the imbecile would stand up and walk out the door right then and there, leaving copious amounts of stress in his wake. And, more importantly- leaving his ears intact.

"Izzy, I already apologised for-"

"Apologised!?" the dark haired girl shrieked, pressing her palms firmly against the table as though tempting the idea of jolting to her feet to smack him round the back of the head. "Mumbling out a begrudging 'sorry' like you're so hard done by for actually  _needing_  to apologise is NOT an apology!"

Clearly her boyfriend's words had shaken the proverbial bottle to the point of explosion, forcing her each and every thought to spew forth. At least, that's how it always went in the films he'd seen. He smirked, reminded of another female who had previously fit that description, back on the boat after an especially heated quarrel with her cousin.

"But what would you know? You always do this! Say something stupid and then make out that  _I'm_  in the wrong just because I lost my cool. Well news flash, there was a  _reason_  I lost my cool!" She huffed, stiffly dropping into her seat as Jamie nervously snuck glances around the establishment. "So don't feed me that 'I've already apologised' crap because it didn't count."

Jamie's attention fell on him for a split second; Marik's cue to find the table incredibly intriguing. His hands still lingered upon its smooth, chestnut surface in the aftermath of his habitual finger drumming. He began to twirl the thick, gold ring on his finger, despite his attention remaining on the rather amusing spat nearby. Luckily for the bickering duo they'd been seated in a quieter part of the restaurant, meaning Marik and an elderly gent reading the paper were the only other patrons within earshot.

"Would you lower your voice?" Jamie hissed a moment later, leaning in closer to his girlfriend. Marik had still caught the heated whisper. "Can't we discuss this back at the hotel when-"

"You're the one that brought it up!"

"Because you still look pissed!"

"Well duh!" Izzy growled. "You wouldn't know an apology if it slapped you square across the face!"

"Look! I'm sorry, okay?"

"Whatever! You're just saying that  _now_  because you feel sorry for yourself!" Marik imagined her staring daggers at the boy. "Poor me! My girlfriend won't shut up and let go and I did absolutely nothing wrong!"

"I already told you I was dumb to be a passenger seat driver!" Marik narrowly avoided a bout of laughter at the silly reason for their disagreement. If such trivial disagreements were normal for couples, he found himself grateful to be single and not at all wanting to mingle. "Look, Izzy. I get that it stresses you out when I'm saying you're driving too slow or that the gap was wide enough when making a turn and all that. And I get that it's not fair of me to say those things." Marik had to arch a brow at Jamie's sudden change in demeanour. He was calmer, more collected.

"And I wasn't even driving too slow!" From the corner of his eye, Marik caught her arms fly high in the air. "I was going the speed limit! I mean, these roads aren't exactly  _familiar_  to me!"

For a moment, Marik imagined A'isha barking her frustrations. This Izzy girl certainly sounded like her. Perhaps the two would get along, venting away about supposed jerks and how incredibly infuriating they are.

Smirking, he briefly wondered if A'isha ever argued with Dani like this. What did they argue about, he wondered. Trivial things, probably; if his own arguments with his fierce captive were any indication of how she shared her displeasure, often allowing her emotions to overtake common sense and clear thinking. He almost felt sorry for Dani- and his ears.

"Again, I'm sorry for stressing you out, okay?" Marik caught sight of Jamie leaning back in his seat, ruffling his shaggy, brown hair. "It wasn't fair of me to do and I didn't think about how it would make you feel. You drive just fine. I was just being nit-picky."

Izzy made an irritable  _harumph_  sound as she slumped a little into her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "The best way to prove you're sorry is to  _show it_ by refraining from passenger seat driving from now on."

"I will, Izzy." He sounded a little less aggravated and a little more relieved. "I promise, okay?"

Marik shook his head slowly, even disapprovingly. The fool was making a promise he couldn't keep and, in the process, was sprouting the seeds of another argument. Promises were made to be broken, as were rules. Humans always revelled in the now, with the intention of following through on their promises only to fall back into ways that were familiar to them. After all, as the saying went, the hearts and minds of man are fickle. Even  _he_  was no exception.

"So," Jamie spoke up, sounding a little more upbeat, though Marik could perceive the undertones of discomfort ridden through his voice in the awkward aftermath of their argument. Naturally. "Where to next?"

Marik imagined Izzy shrugging. "I don't know. Where do you think?"

"How about some sweet to wash down the savoury?"

 _Or rather, to wash down the bitter,_  Marik silently chipped in with a hushed snort.

Jamie leaned into the table, this time with a warm smile in place of the frustrated frown he'd worn minutes ago. "Don't think I didn't notice you eyeing up that ice cream parlour, Little Miss Harford. Those monster shakes looked like diabetes. . . but  _very_   _tasty_  diabetes!"

Izzy laughed, encouraging an arched brow from Marik. Apparently the girl was bipolar. "Ice cream. The food that makes everything better. Especially when you're a girl."

Marik spared a glance at the duo to find them beaming at each other, somehow uplifted, like their silly spat had never taken place. Relationships were strange things, he decided.

"Well," Jamie drawled, propping his right elbow on the table, and his chin in his hand. "I took you to an ice cream parlour for our first date. . . and not because my sister said ice cream is a sure fire way to a girl's heart!"

Izzy snorted. "Of course not," she said sarcastically. "I think food in general is the way to a girl's heart. Or maybe that's just me. I've always been a bottomless pit."

"Well I don't know where it all goes."

"Oh stop it!" Izzy giggled, slapping the air.

Marik groaned, tempting the thought of planting his head against the table. Their conversation had become a whole lot less entertaining and copious amounts more sickening.

_Where in Ra's name is my lunch?_

Or more specifically, that cognac on ice.

* * *

Meanwhile, at The Liberty Hotel, A'isha was wallowing in self pi-

"BUT YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO CUUUUUT ME OOOOFF!"

Or not?

"MAKE OUT LIKE IT NEVER HAPPENED AND THAT WE WERRRE NOTHIIIIN'!"

A'isha shimmied around the room as though performing her very own concert, complete with a makeshift microphone.

"AND I DON'T EVEN NEEEEEED YOUR LOOOOVE, BUT YOU TREAT ME LIKE A STRANGER AND THAT FEELS. SO. ROUGH."

Step to left. . . Step to the right. . . Random twirl.

"NO, YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO STOOOOP SO LOOWWW!"

Kneel on the ground and belt out the next words for dramatic effect.

"HAVE YOUR FRIENDS COLLECT YOUR RECORDS AND THEN CHAAANGE YOUR NUMBERRRR!"

Ish leaped to her feet, dancing carelessly around the room. Burning some much needed energy. Or was it steam? She settled on both.

"I GUESS THAT I DON'T NEEEEEED THAT THOUGHHH. NOW YOU'RE JUST SOMEBODY THAT I UUUUSED TOOO KNOOOWWW!"

The grin she wore felt ridiculously foreign as she pranced about, tossing her makeshift microphone on the nearby coffee table beside the couch. The magazine unrolled to reveal a cover baring a sleek, shiny motorcycle.

When the song came to a close and Rihanna's "We Found Love" blared through the speakers in its place, A'isha quietly sung along as she strode over to the coffee table housing her makeshift mic, a few other magazines that had come with the room, and a phone with a cord. She dropped to her knees upon reaching said table, grimacing at Marik's latest edition of deathtraps. It made a way better microphone than reading material, she thought, as she slid it aside to browse through the other magazines. She'd already made use of them earlier today and, thankfully, there were a few were in English. Probably because a lot of the hotel's clients spoke it.

A few minutes later, A'isha was slumped on the couch, singing along to "Titanium" as she found amusement in a fashion magazine. That is, if amusement equated to admiring all the trendy outfits that she'd never be able to afford. . . if she ever actually got out of the mess she was currently in. A'isha's smile faded a fraction as reality caught up with her. She briefly wished a fresh bowl of buttered popcorn would snap into existence right before her very eyes. Along with Julie, who she often fished through these trashy mags with.

Her semi-content expression was completely swept away by sorrow as she glanced at the suitcase dumped in one corner of the living area. Upon Marik's much anticipated departure, she'd quickly changed into a set of her packed baggier clothes and hidden the pizza parlour picture in the one place Marik would never find it  _besides_  her bra. Well, she sure as hell  _hoped_  he wouldn't have found it in her bra! It just hadn't been a particularly practical hiding place, seeing as it might've gotten all sweaty and ruined if she'd left it there while dancing (and it was a smidge uncomfortable, what with pricking her boob at regular intervals).

Unfortunately, A'isha hadn't really managed much singing or dancing thus far, for shortly after she'd dispelled the urge to happy dance from her system upon arriving back at the suite, reality had reared its ugly head her way, reminding her that she was still kidnapped. Singing and dancing just hadn't felt right. So instead she'd settled on the couch with a lifestyle magazine, blanket draped across her lap as the radio played in the background.

But when her current favourite song, "Somebody That I Used To Know", had bounced through the speakers, a burst of joy had finally overthrown reality, willing her to seek out the comfort that was her love. . . her passion. . . and if she set aside modesty for a moment, her  _talent_. Singing, dancing, anything to do with the performing arts. Escaping into a world where things were alright. . . with no evil witch of an aunt. . . no cowardly uncle or infuriating cousin to deal with. . . but instead, loving parents and a happy home life. An imaginary world in which, for once, she felt content. Sadly, in the real world, she'd learnt that content was painfully hard to come by. For her, anyway.

Back in the present, A'isha sighed softly, setting down the fashion magazine, the spring gone from her step as she wandered over to her suitcase. After ten seconds of rummaging, she pulled out a large box of tampons, flipped open the lid and plucked out a photo from among the sparse amount of hygiene products that remained. At least she'd almost finished her period.

A small smile tugged at her lips as a familiar face beamed up at her. How many times had she spared a moment to feel sorry for herself by glancing at it this morning? How many times had she missed Dani? And Julie? Aiden... Tamzin... Karissa… Atia… Julie's entire family… Dani's too. They were her  _real_  family. But then again, there was also Ahad. And as much as he infuriated her with his ignorance at the worst of times, he was quite capable of being fair and caring, even if that was seldom seen due to his desire to keep the peace with the Wicked Witch of the West.

Upon inheriting a decent chunk of her parents' possessions and wealth, Ahad had lied to Elissa, claiming they'd been given less money than was actually the case. A'isha had learned this after a heated fight with the cow in question, in which the woman flatly refused to pay a dime towards her trip to Catania. That would have been fair enough, had she not first dismissed A'isha's desire to find a job in order to earn the money herself. Though Ish had never really expected Elissa to say yes to paying for it, anyway.

After the fight, A'isha had been sitting on her bed, arms crossed, a scowl pasted upon her face as she stewed. A gentle knock, followed by equally gentle steps, had seized her attention. She'd found Ahad standing in the doorway, an empathetic smile having softened his features, making him appear marginally younger, as he'd asked for her AOK to claim the empty spot beside her on the bed. He'd gone on to reveal to her a secret account that he'd created shortly after her parents' passing. He'd hid the money from Elissa for when  _she_ might need it, and had advised that she could make out to her aunt that Dani's family had offered to pay for the trip.

It hadn't been enough to forgive him for all the times he'd failed to stick up for her, but it had been a start. And much to her dismay, a display of empathy that was rare.

A'isha wasn't sure when she'd stopped singing along, or when the song had changed to "Ass Back Home", but she grimaced nonetheless. Hearing about finding one's way home was the last thing she needed to hear right n-

_Knock knock knock._

A'isha stiffened, panic slicing through her like lightning striking a skyscraper. Marik was back early! Terror twisted her face as she scrambled to stuff her tampons,  _then_  the photo, back into the suitcase, slamming the lid shut seconds later.

Then. . .

"Housekeeping!"

She stilled with relief as her common sense caught up with her.

 _Marik would_ never _knock, you numpty!_

A'isha couldn't help but laugh. Numpty. . . She'd really spent too much time with Julie and all her Britishness. At least, she had up until five days prior. Ugh.

With a stress sucking sigh, A'isha watched the door that led to the hotel hallway. "Come in!" she called out, her heart still thumping a little, the remnants of fear-fuelled adrenaline snaking through her veins.

The click of the locking mechanisms met her ears, followed by the faint scrape of a card leaving the slot on the door. A fifty something year old woman – short, stocky and garbed in generic cleaning attire – soon entered the room. A'isha had almost forgotten what a smile looked like until the woman showed hers. Bryn and Jordan's smiles of sympathy didn't count.

The woman clipped the door to the wall, to which Ish blinked twice. "Oh! Sorry!" she cried, guilt washing over her. "I should've gotten the door for you when you knocked!"

The maid sent a perplexed look her way. Did she speak much English beyond 'housekeeping'? "Don't apologise, Miss!" she swiftly answered the silent question, as a reassuring smile graced her lips. She had an accent, but it didn't sound Italian. French maybe? "It looks like I gave you a scare! We can be even, yes?"

"Oh." A'isha awkwardly rubbed her neck. "Just a  _little_  bit of a scare." Not.

"You want me to come back later? When you gone?"

"No no! You're fine!" Ish insisted, fervently shaking her head 'no' for emphasis. "I'm here all day anyway." A thought struck her then. "Hey? You wouldn't happen to have access to extra pillows, would you? Please?"

"Of course!" she said, nodding enthusiastically. "I grab you one after cleaning the room?"

"You're a godsend! Thank you!" She cocked her head to the right. "If I may ask, what's your name?"

The woman straightened, almost literally uplifted by what must have been an uncommon question in her role. "I am Henrietta! You call me Henny?"

"Henrietta? That's a cool name!" A'isha knew she had to enjoy the lively energy that bounced off this woman. After all the bitterness she'd endured since Saturday, she'd almost forgotten that such bubbly people could exist. "Thank you in advance for the pillow, Henny!"

Henrietta nodded. "That is okay." She mirrored A'isha's earlier action, cocking her head as curiosity flashed across her aged face. "What is your name, Miss?"

"A'isha," she returned, then realised she'd probably just touched on Marik's long list of no-nos. Well, he'd never actually had a list, but she doubted he'd be too keen on her disclosing her name. . . Though really, would news of her kidnapping have reached Italy? She doubted it.

"Pretty name for pretty lady!" Henrietta interrupted her fretting, grinning away. "And pretty lady for a pretty boy!"

At that, A'isha was beyond confused. "Pretty boy?" she asked, answering her own question the second those words left her lips. Of course. Marik.

"Oh." Henrietta blinked. "How you young people say?" she drawled, raising a thoughtful hand to her chin. "Hmm. Oh! He your  _sexy_  boy?"

Aaaaaaand good moment gone. Without even a microbe of mercy.

"Oh no no no no  _no_!" A'isha insisted, frantically waving her hands about at the  _clearly_  addled woman. "He's, um, a. . .  _family friend_." She barely managed to hold back a groan upon remembering he'd used that very lie to get into her house. . . or at least, he'd used that lie against  _her_. She was sure Amara hadn't needed  _any_  convincing to invite the jerk inside. Had it really only been five days? It felt like she'd been stuck with him for an eternity.

Henrietta peered into the bedroom, then glanced back at her. She looked no less confused. "If he family friend, why you not have two beds?"

A'isha went rigid.

Two. Beds.

. . .

" _What?_ "

Henrietta furrowed her brows. "You not know?" She gestured to the bedroom with her pointer finger. "That bed is king split. Can be two beds!"

In an instant, A'isha ground her teeth, fighting the all too strong desire to ball her fists so hard they shook, imagining them striking that sneaky jerk's stupid head. It took every ounce of self-control she had to not lose her cool right then and there; it was already near-depleted after enduring Mr High and Mighty for almost a week. She simply deemed it beyond unfair for her to go all Incredible Hulk on somebody who had nothing to do with her misfortune.

"I didn't know that," A'isha said far too slowly, worried she might just lose it if she spoke any faster. "Could you please show me?"

* * *

Marik had made the last minute decision to take his order to go, courtesy of the sappy couple he'd decided he couldn't stand. Now he found himself on a sturdy picnic table, eating contently from the plastic container stuffed with pasta that was more than satisfactory. Perhaps he'd grab his dinner from the restaurant too, particularly as takeaway was an option for them; perfect for little Ish.

Only ten metres away, lush green grass gave way to the brilliantly white sand of what appeared to be a very frequented beach. Wisps of wind swirled through the air to toy with his hair as though coaxing him toward the sand to enjoy it for himself. The laughter of children rode the afternoon breeze, originating from a nearby playground; while in the opposite direction, one picnic table over, a family of five were chatting away amongst themselves, merrily munching on their lunch.

Marik sighed, about to resign into an old habit of leaning against the back of his seat. Then he remembered his seat didn't have a back. . . because he almost tipped backwards onto the grass. Wonderful. He'd never been one for spontaneity and was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol. He  _had_  downed that cognac in one gulp, after all, and hadn't eaten that much today. Just a croissant. Hopefully his lunch would catch up to the alcohol soon enough.

Marik frowned as he recalled the head shake he'd earned from the elderly gent reading the paper, when he'd downed his cognac. Perhaps the ignoramus shouldn't pry into the affairs of others?

Marik's frown set in deeper as he realised he'd done that very thing when he'd eavesdropped on that couple's nonsensical spat. Though really, he had been curious more than anything. Amid his amusement, he may have weaved together his own view on their argument with the limited information he'd overheard, but that fool had outright assumed to know an iota about him to the point that he'd physically and indiscreetly expressed that assumption.

He didn't care in the least of other's opinions of him. What he  _did_  care about was ignorance; he didn't care for it. Ignorance was something that man apparently possessed in large quantities.

As a child, Marik had been ignorant. Of course, that was to be expected. He  _had_  been locked away in an ancient world, oblivious to the lives led by the surface dwellers. . . of all the possibilities that awaited him if only he could be free of his clan's traditions. He had been beyond intrigued, yearning to learn all he could about the world above and what it could offer him. That was why, upon finally finding the freedom he'd dreamed of for so long, he'd learned anything and everything there was to know about the modern world.

He'd discovered his love for coffee around the same time, soaking it up like a sponge as he pulled all-nighters every other evening, blaming his inability to sleep solely on his thirst for knowledge. It wasn't the only reason – something he refused to admit, as much as Odion would beg to differ.

Somewhere in his closet back on the boat, Marik had buried a pack of sleeping pills, never again to see the light of day- or rather, his mouth. They were still full, much to Odion's dismay, and Marik would often find them in his backpack, on his bedside table, or sometimes on the bathroom bench. Usually after a particularly infuriating day. . . or an encounter with Lady Benu. Same thing, really. Fortunately, as time ticked on by, Marik was noticing Odion's dwindling persistence, however slight it was.

Upon inhabiting the surface, libraries had become his best friend. One such library was where he'd researched the stuff he'd hidden away in his closet, among countless other topics. Soon after, Marik had decided his brother was wasting his time; the potential string of side effects sleeping pills could bring about were more than enough to deter him. He refused to lay his health in the hands of such medication!

At times, the Internet also yielded some interesting finds, although it wasn't always the most reliable of sources, but rather a place for the opinions of the ignorant to be shared – and even agreed with! He was always pleasantly surprised when, on the odd occasion, he'd find something that was actually coherent.

Science, especially Psychology and the complexities of the human mind, was a major interest. Learning all he could about the many countries and cultures littered around the globe was another, and travelling to gather Rare Hunters had gone hand in hand with satisfying his desire to see things with his own eyes, rather than through books or screens.

Marik was intelligent and he knew it. Curiosity came as intelligence's natural companion, so he had quenched that curiosity, banishing any and all ignorance in the process. Unfortunately, it came at a price: he now he had to deal with the ignorance of those around him. After all, humans are quite simply ignorant – him now the exception of course.

The words he had uttered to A'isha last night came to mind.

" _There are not always reasons for a person's actions. Only excuses."_

Marik stood by that. However, if he wanted to get especially technical, he could surmise that one's excuses for their actions lie in the simple fact that they are human.

Pensiveness shaped his features as his fingers left the table to lightly brush over one wing of the golden artefact tucked under his belt.

Humans are like animals, demanding control from someone capable of giving it. . . of  _understanding_  their animalistic ways. They run on instincts- and their impulses, desires and decisions are manipulated by those instincts. Whether they lash out in fear or cower in a corner. Whether they are met by cordiality, thereby lowering their walls and mirroring that cordiality in return, or are approached with hostility and do the opposite, pulling up those hastily constructed walls that were oh-so-easy to break if one knew how.

Should someone delve deeply enough, as he had, they would reach the conclusion that being a human – with selfish desires and the need to not survive, but  _thrive_  – was an excuse in itself for one's actions.

A smirk slowly crept across Marik's lips as his mind wandered to his latest subject. A'isha was more complex than most. The instincts were certainly there, as demonstrated by her many fear driven outbursts. . . when she'd lash out upon feeling threatened or pressed enough. Her weakling cousin, however, was very different and unsurprisingly took on the role of the coward in the corner. Another example was in the way that A'isha opened up somewhat when she was treated with some level of decency, as he had shown her this morning upon walking back to the hotel, or last night upon finding her on the hillside. Marik had enjoyed shocking her by, to an extent, delivering an ounce of cordiality. She hadn't expected it – and had resorted back to hiding behind her walls as a result. But the reason she hadn't expected it. . . That was part of what made her complex.

A'isha had, to some degree, displayed an understanding of those animalistic ways. She was even striving to unravel the inner workings of his mind. A pathetic venture really. He saw it in the way her face sunk the second she sent some scathing remark his way, only to see his own face light up with anticipation as he countered with those snarky comments he always loved dishing out. And he saw it in the way she fought against every impulse to snap at him as he tried, always successfully, to test her patience. She knew he was doing so to savour her reaction, for she was taking note of the way  _he_  worked. Not simply to react appropriately as is instinctual of a human, the same way a canine responds to its owner's scolds with shameful body language or praise by bobbing for joy.

No. A'isha was trying to understand  _him_  in order to know how to react  _around_  him. Granted she was doing so solely for self-preservation. Though, she failed to follow through on all she likely  _did_  learn purely because of her stubbornness and pride. It was all quite normal and understandable for a human to do, reading body languages and facial cues and reacting appropriately. What intrigued him, however, was that she was delving deeper, linking his every choice and action together in order to understand him. And it appeared that she was  _succeeding_  in understanding the way  _his_  mind worked – to a point. A'isha simply failed to use the knowledge effectively when interacting with him, for that ever-amusing stubbornness and pride smothered any clarity required to do so.

He chuckled, recalling all the times she'd stood up to him. She had a no doubt fiery streak about her, earning what he might even describe as admiration – or at the very least  _respect_  – from him in the process.

In a way, they were rather alike. They were witty and enjoyed banter. He always tripped her up, but he had a feeling she was holding back, her pride willing her to hide any positive emotions. For the most part, all she displayed was disgust, disdain, anger and – to her displeasure – fear. But deny it as she might, he could tell she enjoyed their "playful banter". He'd seen it when he'd literally offered her a helping hand aboard the seaplane, amid her threats of throwing him in the ocean. A'isha had smiled. She had enjoyed the exchange. And she knew it too, hence why her pride had willed the expression to vanish as quickly as it had appeared. Of course, she sooner  _would_ swallow a lifetime's supply of lemons before admitting any of this. It always seemed to come back to that stubbornness and pride...

His hand left the Millennium Rod to find his chin. Tears… Emotions… That was an example of why they were also very different. A'isha liked to think she had control over her emotions, but really she had none – or close to it. He, on the other hand, had complete control over his emotions, and understood the emotions of those around him, as incessantly as she'd deny that claim. Perhaps caring too much was A'isha's Achilles' heel, hindering her in that regard. Or perhaps he just gave her far too much credit.

In any case, believe what she will, Marik had never used the rod on A'isha. The idea of unravelling the inner workings of  _her_ mind unaided was far more appealing to him. She was a challenge. And he always enjoyed those.

Marik frowned, his mind wandering back to his desire to correct her assumption last night, when she'd believed he was oblivious to her feelings. Perhaps he  _did_  care to a degree about what others thought of him. Or rather, what  _she_ thought of him. Hormones, maybe. He groaned, setting down his fork to run long, slender fingers through blond locks. He eagerly awaited actually being twenty two, as A'isha believed him to be, or to just be free of the irking thoughts thrust to life by puberty's cruel hands.

He shook his head thrice, blond bangs swaying with every movement; earrings tickling his neck as they rocked back and forth. His thought processes were creeping into unsettling territory, if there was such a thing for him. A grated sigh itched his throat and he briefly wondered how A'isha was fairing without him. That only prompted a more familiar smirk to snake across his lips, imagining the bitter girl insisting that she was beyond ecstatic to be graced with his absence. She wouldn't be lying in saying so either.

His smirk stretched as he coolly ducked beneath the table, seeking out the backpack resting at his feet. Upon straightening, Marik frowned momentarily, realising that what was left of his lunch was now likely cold. Just peachy, as his lovely little captive would no doubt mutter. At least, as of late.

If he was honest, his knowledge of A'isha's mannerisms had been gathered through an assortment of scenarios that were similar to one another. Perhaps she behaved differently around friends, family or acquaintances. Yes, he'd glimpsed interactions between her and Amara. Yes, he'd seen slivers of her home life – or rather, Amara's perception of it, by way of his Millennium Rod. And yes, he'd seen the way she treated guests – cordially enough, despite the impressive display of distrust that she'd demonstrated upon meeting  _him_. But like a scientist conducted their research, reaching a conclusion based on a generous variety of scenarios and cold, hard facts, Marik knew he'd merely scratched the surface. Of course, the assumptions he'd made thus far were no doubt far beyond accurate, but there was always room for improveme-

Perfect. His mind was wandering again.

This time, Marik huffed, withdrawing his phone from a side pocket of his backpack. He dumped the bag in its former resting place, between his feet, and flipped open the cellular device, grateful to have stored the hotel's number in his contacts. He remembered their room number – 202. That was all he needed.

* * *

A'isha imitated a feline near perfectly, savouring a slow stretch upon her new sleeping arrangement. Thanks to Henrietta, she now had an actual bed, fresh sheets and all. They'd rolled it into an empty corner of the living area. Well, empty aside from a floor lamp that had been easy enough to find a new home for. The other half of the bed had stayed in the bedroom, of course.

Ish inhaled deeply, savouring the strong scent of citrus from her very own pillow. She should've been worrying over how Marik would react. Hell, she'd be lying in thinking that a small part of her  _wasn't_. But it served him right, forcing her to sleep on the couch when he must've known all along that the bed could be split in two! He deserved this! And she couldn't wait to see his reaction upon walking in tonight, realising she'd found out his stupid little lie. Hopefully he'd be shocked. Maybe a smidge peeved. Or would she just be fuelling his amusement? Apparently she was good at doing that.

A few spritzes of a spray bottle seized her attention, the sound emitting from her bathroom, rather than Marik's ensuite. Henrietta was in there, cleaning something or other as she hummed along to the radio. "Set Fire To The Rain" was currently playing. A'isha had to admit, this radio station was playing all the good stuff. . . or maybe anything was good at this point, after no music for five days.

Her stomach groaned, silently willing her to spare a glance at the clock. After one already! Where had all that time gone? She grimaced. While she couldn't wait to see Marik's reaction to their new bedding configuration, seeing  _him_  was another thing entirely.

Sighing, A'isha decided against sparing too much brain power on Sir Jerk-A-Lot. Not that she didn't do enough of that already. She shuffled off the bed, rushing across the room to the mini fridge, where she'd stored her lunch shortly after performing the happy dance she'd been unable to contain upon Marik's departure. Ish had just opened the fridge when an abrupt blare echoed through the room. Her face sunk as she realised exactly what it was: the phone on the coffee table.

A'isha groaned, all but slamming the fridge shut after snatching out her food. She didn't need a fancy, magic stick to know Mr Control Freak was checking up on her. Who else would be calling? She chose to ignore it, instead slumping into the chair Marik had occupied earlier that morning, when sipping away at the apparent eighty percent portion of his energy.

A'isha unwrapped her lasagne, then fished plastic cutlery from the bottom of the plastic bag. She couldn't be bothered heating up her meal, plus she kind of enjoyed lasagne cold, if the leftover lasagne she'd eaten in the past was any indication.

"Phone?" Henrietta cried out, popping her head through the bathroom doorway to glance at A'isha. She was obviously puzzled.

"Leave it, Henny," she insisted, sparing a small smile the lady's way. "It's just that guy wanting to check up on me."

Henrietta blinked twice, no less perplexed. "Okay," she drawled anyway, before vanishing from the doorway and getting back to whatever it was she was cleaning.

The phone stopped almost immediately after the woman had spoken.

And then it started again.

"Oh for frig's sake!" A'isha muttered under her breath. She marched across the room to yank the device to her ear. "Yes?" she simply said, refraining from something more sour only because she had company.

"Hm. I expected something a little less cordial than  _that_."

A'isha sunk into the couch beside the table, though she leaned in toward the coffee table thanks to the phone not being cordless. "Yeah, well. . . you've caught me in a good mood." It wasn't exactly a lie, she reasoned. Overall, she was in a great mood when compared to recent days, aside from the bed kerfuffle.

"Is that so?" She was sourly reminded of his beyond annoying chuckle as it echoed through the speaker. "So you're not missing me? Not in the slightest?"

"Oh.  _So much!_ " A'isha ridiculed, rolling her eyes. Only then did she realise she must've broken some sort of record for 'longest A'isha has gone without eye rolling'. He really  _was_  an infuriating jerkwad!

Another chuckle grated through the phone. A'isha could just imagine the smirk he wore that very second. She hated how it was burned into her brain. "I knew you liked me," he goaded, amusement dancing through his words.

"You wish, Pretty Boy," she muttered, scowling at nothing in particular. "Is there a reason you're calling? Y'know, aside from to torture me."

"I simply wished to check up on my lovely little captive."

 _Lovely little captive, huh?_  A'isha smirked, tapping the speaker phone button. "Come again?" she innocently asked.

There was a brief pause. He must have realised she'd popped on speaker phone. In her experience, that mode  _did_  sound a bit crackly at times. "You're not alone," he finally said, the barest amount of amusement still lining his voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise I couldn't communicate with the cleaning lady."

"I have no qualms with that," Marik stated simply. A'isha figured he had more to say on the subject, but was probably holding his tongue. Boy, that must've been hard for Mr Loves The Sound Of His Own Voice! "Now then, it may surprise you to know that I  _do_  have another reason for calling.  _Besides_ apparently torturing you." There was a brief pause as he awaited an answer that never came; though she  _did_  roll her eyes again. He continued a few seconds later. "Dinner. What are you in the mood for?"

"Why do you care?" A'isha grumbled, flicking off speaker phone.

"We've been through this, Ish."

"Well why would you ask if you don't care!" she shrieked into the phone.

"Just answer the question."

"Well  _I_ don't care."

"We really must discuss your taste in food, little Ish. Yesterday you were in the mood for 'whatever'. Today it's 'I don't care'."

"If I say fettuccine will it end this call faster?"

"Well there's one way to find out."

"Fettuccine."

"Vegetarian or-"

A'isha hung up. Then sent a stony scowl the phone's way, just waiting for it to ring again. She didn't have to wait long. And she sure as heck didn't answer. That is, until the fourth time he tried.

Ish sucked in air, struggling to keep her cool as she pressed the device to her ear. "Yes?" she said slowly, teeth clenched.

" _Yes_? Is that the only way you answer phone calls?"

"When you're the one calling, uhh,  _yeah_."

She heard him chuckle, encouraging yet another eye roll. "Now as I was saying before you so rudely ended the call. . . vegetarian or chicken?"

"What do  _you_  think?"

"Vegetarian it is."

A'isha gritted her teeth. Thank the gods she now had her very own pillow to scream into after this!

After all the vegetarian dishes she'd had as of late, the thought of chicken  _did_ sound marvellous. She groaned, realising the sad life she apparently now led. Getting upset over the inability to have chicken. Least of all, the fact someone else had control over her diet. Ridiculous.

Despite her desire for what she deemed a slightly more wholesome dish, A'isha overcame the urge to correct him. He was doing this on purpose, and all she wanted to do in that moment was end the damn call.

"Fine," she muttered into the phone.

"Perfect. I'll see you later this evening."

"I  _can't_  wait."

"That makes two of us."

And just like that, Marik disengaged the call, leaving her to cringe at the sick enjoyment that had oozed from his voice as he'd announced that final phrase. Dinner time couldn't come slowly enough.

* * *

After a leisurely walk along the beach paired with some people-watching, Marik had opted on flagging down a taxi to reach a couple of museums. He'd decided against taking his bike; the inner city streets were a myriad of one ways and he really had no interest in navigating them any more than was necessary.

He had admired the entrancing architecture of the Monastero dei Benedettini, a grand old building that now belonged to the University of Catania. Despite the many young students wandering the halls, it felt like he'd stepped back in time the moment he'd passed through the high stone archway that served as its entrance.

Then he'd explored the Museo Storico dello Sbarco, a museum dedicated to the Allied invasion of Sicily during the second World War. Another intriguing thing about humans, they are wonderful at starting wars. Ending them is another thing entirely.

Another taxi ride later, Marik had returned to that restaurant and, while waiting for his dinner, he had wandered a little, soon finding himself in a nearby electronics store. A few items in particular had caught his eye. He'd felt almost obliged to purchase them and, once he had, Marik had stored them away in his backpack.

The present found him in the back of yet  _another_  taxi, the aged city streets flashing by in a blur, as splashes of orange and red from the setting sun peeked through gaps between buildings. One building in particular shouted out to him. . . or rather, the Duel Monsters poster pasted upon its front window did. It was obviously a game shop, though it looked to be closed for the day. Marik made a mental note to check it out tomorrow. In his experience, rare cards could be found in the simplest of places.

Marik glanced at the bag resting on the middle seat, the home of two containers stuffed with pasta and layered with a light coating of condensation. He smirked. Right now, he had far more  _pressing_  matters to tend to than seeking out rare cards. . . like making up for the lack of playful banter he'd endured today. That was where A'isha came in.

* * *

A'isha heard Blondie coming well before he arrived. She'd grown far too accustomed to his steps. As they echoed along the hallway, each footfall a fraction louder than the last, A'isha's eyes became fixed on the door, diagonally across the room from the corner that both her suitcase  _and_ her bed now occupied.

The smirk stapled on her lips had her a little worried. . . and not just because it reminded her of him. She should've been dreading his reaction to her remodelling session. And yet here she was, struggling to simmer the excitement that bubbled within. Maybe she just loved the thought of throwing him off his high horse? Yeah, that was it!

The click of the door tore her from that rumination. A'isha straightened, returning to reality far faster than she'd left it. She quickly slumped into the pillow behind her, sprawling her legs down the bed, and practically buried her face in the magazine that had previously laid forgotten on her lap.

_Act natural._

It took everything in Ish to keep her eyes glued to the magazine. Something about why every girl should own a pair of dungarees. The ruffle of a plastic bag met her ears as a white button up shirt, covered by an ebony leather jacket, snuck into the corner of her eye. Only then did she glance up from her magazine, acting casual.

"Oh hi," she said lightly, reminding herself of some spaced out surfer dude from those silly shows Amara liked to watch – with an added hint of mock sweetness.

Then she noticed his face. Calm, collected, like he hadn't noticed a damn thing was out of place. Unfortunately, 'unobservant' was the last word she'd use to describe Sir Jerk-A-Lot.

"Oh hi," Marik mimicked, shrugging out of his backpack only to slide it onto the floor near the doorway. He wandered over to the bench, setting down a plastic bag near the sink. "As requested," he began, flourishing his hand toward the bag, "chicken fettuccine."

"Pretty sure it was established that you were getting vegetarian fettuccine," she pressed, battling the bewilderment bothering her brain. He'd only savour it. That was why he was acting just as natural as she was- well, as she was  _trying_ to. Marik knew she had hoped for a reaction from him. Especially as he must have known the bed could be split in two!

"I have vegetarian fettuccine for myself." He removed his jacket, sliding it over the back of the dining chair nearest to him. "I know you really wanted the chicken fettuccine."

A'isha flicked the magazine a little; the poor thing was soon on the receiving end of her infamous glare. "Whatever," she muttered a moment later, her frustration only heightened by the fact she'd just read the same line at least ten times.

"You have an odd way of expressing gratitude. And you seem to really like whatever."

"I'm  _not_  grateful. Not to  _you_  anyway." She inhaled deeply before her next words, willing herself to return to a reasonably calm state. Something she seemed to suck at doing when cursed with his presence. "So," she drawled, watching Marik slip into the same seat his jacket now hung from, where he cracked open the container full of his own dinner, positioning it in front of him on the small dining table. "Have you noticed anything  _different_?"

Marik glanced up from his meal, arching a curious brow. Of course he was playing dumb. "Different?" he repeated… slowly, like the word was new to his vocabulary and he was testing it out. He absently twisted pasta around his fork as he gave the room a fleeting once over. "My magazine is on the coffee table; not on my bedside table where I left it last night." She could tell he wanted to smirk, but was instead continuing his whole 'oblivious' charade. "Your suitcase isn't zipped up like it was when I left this morning." He tapped the top of his seat, covered by his jacket. "This chair had been used before I claimed it, as it was resting around a few more inches to the right when I left." That infuriating smirk finally revealed itself. "And, of course, your hair is tied up."

A'isha blinked.

" _Seriously?_ "

Both of his brows shot up then.

An irked growl erupted from A'isha's throat as she straightened where she laid, slapping her magazine on the sheets beside her. "Fine! I'll spell it out for Mr Loves To Play Dumb!" She gestured to her bed. "You knew this could be split in two, but you thought it'd be funny to just lie and make me sleep on that stupid couch that's way too short for me!"

"And what gives you that idea?" Marik inquired, maintaining his level headedness as he savoured her lack of it. "Perhaps I was unaware of it upon entering our suite this evening?"

"Oh please!" she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "We both know  _that's_  a lie!"

Marik set down his fork. "Then by all means, explain your reasons for doubting me," he coolly said, holding his hands out before him to further emphasise his 'invitation'.

"The housekeeping lady told me this room is advertised as a  _suite with a king split bed_." Her arms twisted across her chest. "And as much as I'd like to say that you're lacking in the perception department, sadly that's not the case. If you can tell that a stupid chair has been used because it was a few inches more to the left-"

"To the right."

"Quit it!" she barked, considering the pros and cons of leaping from the bed to throttle the pedantic jerk right then and there. Instead, A'isha sucked in another stress smothering breath of air. "As I was  _saying_ , if you notice little things like that, you sure as heck noticed that the room was advertised as having a bed that can be split in two."

"And your reasons would be correct."

"Then how do you exp-" She paused. "Wait- What?"

"Well," Marik drawled, raising a thoughtful hand to his chin, " _mostly_  right." He smirked. "I didn't lie so much as I bent the truth, as you so eloquently put it this morning."

A'isha was dubious. "Oh  _really_?"

"You asked where you were sleeping. I said the couch. You asked why I booked a place like this and didn't ask for a second bed. I returned, quite truthfully, that this was the only room they had to offer on such short notice. You went on to ask why I didn't request for a roll away bed. I simply said that some rooms have convertible couches, in addition to pointing out that an upscale establishment such as this does not supply them."

"Then what do you call this!?" she shrieked, smacking her palm against her sheets.

"One half of a split king bed."

At that point, she was well beyond unimpressed. "Boy, I feel sorry for the girl you somehow sucker into being your girlfriend. . . You're going to drive her  _completely mental_!"

"You might just think otherwise after finding yourself in a similar role on Sunday."

"Why? Do you plan on actually treating me like a human being with feelings?"

"I don't do that now?" Aaand he was playing dumb again. Brilliant.

A'isha shook her head disapprovingly, scooping up her magazine to lay it across her thighs. She wasn't really reading it so much as she was using it to avoid interacting with her less than amicable and more than unbearable company.

"Your dinner's getting cold."

She didn't bother to look up. "First the pizza. Now my pasta. It's like you think I don't understand thermal energy." A sigh slipped through her lips. "Besides, plastic is an insulator. It doesn't allow thermal energy to easily move through it." She glared at him, the look only hardening at the unsettlingly wide grin he wore. "I'd think a smart ass like you would know that."

"I do."

She returned to her reading, hating the grin she could still see him wearing from the corner of her eye. Not to mention the way he was so casually watching her in the first place, through bites of his pasta. Didn't he have anything better to do than be super creepy? Oh wait.

Finally, it became too much. She shot upright on the bed, sending a scowl his way. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"You know what!"

"Enlighten me."

"Stop being so  _creepy_! That's what!"

"Eat your dinner."

"For Pete's sake!" A'isha huffed, leaping to her feet. She marched over to the bench, scooping up the remaining plastic container along with a fork. "You're seriously  _such_  a control freak!" She thought about asking exactly  _why_ that was, but he'd only avoid the question or plain old shut it down.

Instead, she resorted to taking the seat furthest from her smirking company and, using every last iota of self-control that remained, she begrudgingly ate her dinner, praying that  _he'd_  have enough sense to keep his mouth sh-

"I heard the radio playing in the background when I called."

And her prayers had gone unanswered.

Marik glanced her way as he went onto ask, "I assume you had a lot of singing to catch up on?"

"Mm."

"I'm a little shocked to find your voice is still intact."

She maintained a nonchalant air about her as she finished a mouthful of pasta. "My voice has had plenty of practice screaming at you these past five days."

Another small smile flickered across his lips. "I see you're keeping count of the days."

Her face hardened. "When are you going to-"

"I already told you, I will release you in due time."

"And  _I_  already told  _you_  that's a stupid answer."

His smile grew. "You're full of sass tonight, aren't you?"

"I'm always full of sass. I just choose not to voice it."

"Or perhaps my speech patterns are rubbing off on you."

A'isha groaned with her next mouthful.  _I am SO glad he said "speech patterns"._  She watched him warily.  _And I really hope he isn't using that stupid stick to read my mind. . . especially now that I've said I just don't_ voice  _my sass. Knowing his twisted logic, he'll take that as an flippin' invitation!_

A'isha's eyes shifted around the room, seeking out a less awkward topic of conversation. She soon found one. "I'm keeping the bed." Okay. Maybe 'marginally less awkward' was more of an apt description.

Marik dumped his fork in the now empty container before him. "That's fine by me." He leaned into the chair, thankful that it had a back to it, unlike the picnic table he'd almost stumbled off of earlier today. "I'm tempted to say you've earned it."

"You just did."

"My my my. Who are you and what have you done with my compliant fiancée?" His grin was now ear to ear. Her cue to shut up. But that was easier said than done.

"Not till Sunday night and  _only_ Sunday night." She swallowed bile and managed a sweet smile. "Here's an idea. Why don't you mosey along to your room, shut your door, get settled into your brand new bed, and read the latest issue of Deathtraps Are Us?" She flashed a sweet smile. "And presto! We're both happy!"

Marik shook his head. "I have something better in mind."

"Let me guess. Seeking out that ten percent of your energy that is the sweet, sweet misfortune of others?" She glowered at him. "Namely  _my_ misfortune."

"Actually, I quite enjoyed those two episodes of How I Met Your Mother that we watched on the plane." His own sickly sweet smile put hers to shame as he suavely slipped from his seat to grab his backpack. "So," he drawled, unzipping the main compartment to withdraw a pile of DVDs. "I bought the first five seasons." He held them out for her to see, like it hadn't been obvious before he'd even pulled the damn things out of his bag. "You're welcome."

Her unimpressed look said it all, but she spoke up anyway; "I hope there's a TV hidden somewhere in your room."

"You don't want to watch it with me?" Her captor looked hurt. He even pouted. It was disgusting. And so, so, so fake. "Really, Ish. You won't even know I'm there."

"Is that what you told the last girl you were with?"

"I thought I made it quite clear this morning that my golden phallic symbol pales in comparison to-"

"Please don't finish that sentence."

A wry smile settled on his face. "You brought it up," he goaded, seizing the seat closest to her.

 _I really hope he isn't being literal when he says I brought "it" up,_  A'isha sourly thought. She squirmed a little where she sat, trying hard to will that thought away. Then she finally shrugged. "The opportunity was there. And who am I to question fate?" She barely bit back a smile of her own. That burn back there had almost made her day. "And you  _do_  realise there's a reason I sat as far away from you as possible, right?"

"Why do you think I sat here?"

Ish heaved an aggravated sigh, tearing her eyes away from his infuriating smile to stare at her dinner. Well, what was left of it anyway. She'd downed most of it. That was probably a good thing, considering that, for some  _strange_  reason, she'd suddenly lost her appetite.

"I'll watch it with you," she drawled, forcing herself to meet his lavender gaze. "If you give me a daily spending limit of fifty Euros on room service." There was no use asking for unlimited spending. Marik would shut the idea down instantly, claiming she'd go ham if given free reign over room service. And he'd probably be right.

"Why do you think I'd believe your company to be worth anything?"

She shrugged. "You asked."

At that, Marik said nothing as he slid the DVDs onto the table, then found his feet and stepped over to his backpack. He remained wordless as he withdrew something and tossed it her way. She instinctively caught it, failing to hide her surprise as she recognised the object as an unpopped bag of buttery goodness.

"What's this?"

"My counter offer."

"Guess that's a no to the fifty Euros allowance." A'isha bit her lip, staring at the bag of popcorn. It was for butter lovers too. A moment later, she looked up at him. "Do I get it all to myself?"

Marik held up a block of chocolate, a silent answer to her question. A silent  _yes._ She was lucky her captor had a sweet tooth.

Ish mulled it over for a moment longer, wondering if she could weasel anything more out of him. "What else do you have?"

Marik actually looked impressed at that. "You know, I'm glad you asked," he praised, withdrawing a second bag of popcorn and tossing it to her.

"And maybe one phone call to-"

"No." The answer was immediate.

It was worth a shot.

A'isha stared at the objects in her hand. A bag for tonight and one for tomorrow. . . or just for later on tonight. She could barely contain the minute amount of joy that brought her. Even if Sir Jerk-A-Lot was kind of responsible for it. If she was honest, Ish was almost impressed that he'd actually thought to buy it; that fact in itself was willing her to say yes. Sure, she'd have to endure Marik's company for a while longer, but at least _this way_ she'd get something out of it-

"I do pay attention, Dear A'isha." Marik crossed his arms and arched a brow as he waited for an answer. "Well?"

Half a minute passed as he watched the proverbial gears turn over what really was a simple decision. "It's the only offer you'll get."

"Deal."

* * *

The scent of the freshly popped buttery goodness filled the suite. Marik had allowed her to angle the television so that she could watch it from bed, while he'd lounged out on the couch with the blanket he'd formerly given her. Right now, A'isha cradled the warm paper bag in her lap, eating heartily as images flashed before her eyes. It was her second bag. And they were up to episode eight of season one. Somehow he'd roped her into tolerating his presence for six whole episodes and counting.

To A'isha's surprise, Marik had stayed true to his word: had it not been for the occasional laugh – particularly at Barney's antics – she really wouldn't have known he was there. So for the most part, she was content. Well, if she could really describe being in a hotel room in Catania against her will as a scenario in which one  _could_   _be_  content. At the very least, it was an improvement on the last five days of drama she'd endured at Sir Jerk-A-Lot's hands.

A particularly enthusiastic laugh from Blondie tore her attention away from the television. She arched a brow, her mind wandering back to that time he'd agreed that he wasn't the type to watch comedies, back in his closet, when he'd made her choose his get up for the proposition. She frowned, disheartened by the reminder of her reason for being there. That stupid dinner.

 _Maybe it won't be as bad as I think?_  A'isha tried to convince herself, failing miserably as she remembered who exactly she was dealing with.  _But this_  is  _Mr Loves To Make People Squirm. He'll make it torture._

"I can't help but notice that your eyes are on me and not the television."

A'isha blinked. Then noticed two laughing lavender eyes looking back at her. Oh great. He'd seen her staring.

"I-" Her eyes were suddenly plastered to the TV screen, a blush burning her cheeks. "I was just thinking and happened to be staring in your general direction."

A'isha could tell he was enjoying her embarrassment a little too much, if the amusement entwined through his tone was any indication. "And here I was thinking you were madly in love with me."

"Meanwhile,  _I_  was wondering how you've managed to keep your stupid mouth shut for more than two hours."

Marik smiled, but said nothing more after that. Startlingly. A'isha was beyond relieved, although a little awkward for a few minutes after. What if he thought she fancied him? Ugh- He wished! The mere thought of being attracted to him was embarrassing enough.

Another episode had passed before all the popcorn finally caught up with her, throwing a bout of queasiness her way. As if she hadn't endured enough of that on day one and two of her monthly visitor. She groaned a little, curling up into a ball of self-pity that was far too familiar to her in recent days.

They were up to the final episode of that season– at least it  _sounded_  like the final one – when exhaustion finally overthrew the sickening feeling in her stomach, lulling her into a surprisingly satisfying sleep.

* * *

The DVD menu screen had been running for not even a minute before Marik shut it off. He saw that his captive was in a popcorn coma; perhaps he shouldn't have so readily revealed and yielded that second bag. His gaze then drifted to her things that were in a haphazard heap…. Or more aptly a contained disaster. As if she'd been caught off guard by something. Her reaction to his entry had been amusing… probably akin to the feeling Stealth Incarnate got upon each occurrence of getting the drop on him. "Vexing Little Bird…" The words came off his lips sourly.

He rotated the ring on his finger continuously. The pile bothered him. If they were his things, they'd- The rotations ceased.

He  _did_  buy them… in that, loosest, sense, he  _could_ rectify this… clothing explosion. The idea didn't even give him pause as he stepped first into his room, towards his own bags and withdrew the plastic one that held not only the ear plugs, an apology he surmised, but also the shirt that his stubborn captive still refused that morning. Well at any rate, he'd see if orange suited her as well as he thought on Sunday. There weren't alternatives for that selection. He slipped out of his leather shoes carefully… a little more stealth was required and some have thought his steps, mostly by his footwear choice, were harbingers of dread.

He bore the smallest ghost of a smile as he returned to the living area and paced toward the offending laundry pile, only pausing to prop the bag against the head side of the bed. He folded the shirts in a squared shape, folded the pants in half long ways and then rolled them into loose bundles. The undergarments, at only a glance, looked decent enough that he left it alone- clearly it was just the outerwear that was amiss.

Nearing the conclusion of his tidying, he realized he missed a grey shirt that nearly blended in with the carpet… or perhaps it was an indication he'd actually enjoy a decent amount of sleep tonight. He shook it briskly and held it there for two seconds, thoughts now occupied by a photograph whose white boarder contrasted with his black socks… or were these the navy blue ones- sometimes he couldn't tell… all he knew is that his shed hairs showed up on Every. Single. One.

His attention returned to the fallen photo. Picking it up, he carefully ran his thumb across the Polaroid picture's white borders- an oddly nostalgic photography method that, if he recalled correctly, was iconic and synonymous with camera history- Marik frowned slightly. In that moment, he didn't just see the literally cheesy photo. Again, he sees what he took her away from… Again he sees who she's missing. And for the first time in five days, he felt the smallest, foreign, or at least rarely acknowledged, sensation of guilt.

A'isha had been here before. That much was clear. He'd suspected it, too. She always seemed to have her wits about her, but lately… she had seemed a little more out of sorts. And now the explanation was smiling up at him through sky blue eyes and a smile that rivalled the pizza in all its cheesiness.

Lavender eyes shifted from the blond in the photo to the beaming girl in Dani's one armed embrace. She looked happy. Something he couldn't quite fathom. Unlike the odd swirling in his stomach that could almost be described as sickening.

Marik knew that feeling all too well. He'd felt it back in the chilling prison that had barely served as his home for the first eleven years of his life. He'd felt it the day of his father's murder… the day he'd first seen the world above, only to be dragged back down into the depths of his despair as an unrelenting fear took hold, his heart having battered against his rib cage as a bird does its metal prison. The numbing darkness. He'd always loathed it… had always been  _petrified_  of it.

When night would fall, he would frequently find his shadow sneaking along in his wake, like a haunting ghost dancing in the flickering torchlight as he tiptoed through a labyrinth of corridors that all looked the same; yet, somehow, he always found his way. He had always found himself in a familiar chamber, staring up in wonder through the hole in the ceiling. Entranced by the brilliantly bright orb that hung high out of reach, accompanied by endless shimmering lights weaved into the black cloak that was the sky. Wishing he could watch the striking sight from up above.

Sometimes, against his father's will and his own better judgement, he would even risk remaining until dark gave way to light- and with it, a perfect palette of colours the likes of which he'd never seen anywhere in the tomb. Not on the golden trinkets. Or the worn down hieroglyphics etched onto every other wall. Nothing compared.

Oh yes. He definitely knew that sickening feeling painfully well…

Jealousy. Not against the boy who rightly had his captive's affection, but the fact that A'isha had something worth going back to, worth reminiscing, worth holding onto. He had nothing of the sort.

The photo shuddered the slightest amount. Only then did he realise how tightly he was holding it. So hard his hand was trembling. He frowned, sparing a glance at the girl resting peacefully, her breaths heavy and her face relaxed. Her expression was unfamiliar to him, baring nothing of the weight that warped her features when the fiercely stubborn girl was awake.

After one last, fleeting look at the photograph, he slipped it amid her clothes, almost as though it were some delicate thing. He minutely considered ruffling the clothes a little, lest she suspect he'd found out her little secret and think Doomsday had befallen her. Perhaps she'd hang on to the hope that somehow his perceptiveness had taken the rest of the evening off. Think what she will, it was too late to reverse his tidying now. Or was that the neat freak in him talking?

Marik shook his head, turning to the bag he'd previously set aside. He withdrew the orange shirt, flicking it so as to shake out the earplugs wrapped within it, then carefully folded the shirt across his knees, before gently setting it atop the rest of her clothes. He proceeded to slowly, quietly shut the suitcase lid, not bothering to zip it up in case the abrupt, high pitched sound woke her. She'd no doubt get the fright of her life. He  _was_  kneeling right next to her bed, after all.

Finally, he retrieved his silent apology, the earplugs, from where they lay discarded on the carpet. A lopsided smirk showed as he slid them under her pillow. Marik was near certain they'd come in handy first thing tomorrow morning, when he'd likely wake her up upon seeking out his usual early morning coffee. Not that she'd be surprised.

Marik straightened to his feet, stealing a one eyed glance over his shoulder, frowning upon finding the blanket he'd formerly used was askew across the couch. He quickly rectified that, folding it neatly and setting it down on one of the two couch cushions. Then the motorcycle magazine reclaimed his attention. Why  _was_  it even out there? She hated motorcycles- or rather,  _deathtraps_. He chuckled, the question occupying his mind for only a few moments longer, before a yawn broke through his laughter.

At that, he invited the small smile of anticipation that flickered across his lips as he gently plucked up the magazine and the empty plastic bag that had formerly housed the orange shirt, and tiptoed into his bedroom.

Perhaps tonight, he'd actually spend more time studying the inside of his eyelids than he would counting the three hundred and twenty two squares on the ceiling.


	20. Chapter 19: Quips and Quizzing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! A quick disclaimer, we don't own How I Met Your Mother, Friends, Criminal Minds, Stargate, or Star Trek. Now then, enjoy the reading!

**Chapter Nineteen: Quips and Quizzing**

Her eyes were sealed shut, but her vision was a shade lighter. The first tell that morning had come. The second was muted thuds. Footsteps? Yes. They were clumsy and unsteady. Like a toddler charging down the hall.

"Seguimi, mamma!"

"Silenzio! La gente dorme!"

A child's voice, laced with laughter and followed by a hushed, yet stern warning. Probably their mother.

"Scusa..."

A'isha was grateful as the footsteps faded and a serene silence swept over the space. All at once, she stretched and sucked in air. And at about the same time, realisation struck. It was light outside. Her eyes shot open, honing in on the dining table almost instantly. Empty seats; she gave up on guessing if any of them were two inches to the right after that many seconds.

Her eyes swept over the rest of the room, before blinking in disbelief. Relief wasn't far behind. Mr Coffee Fanatic wasn't up yet. She arched a smooth brow as her sights shifted to his bedroom door, along the same wall as her bed. It was shut. One look at the exit was all she needed to establish that he hadn't simply left unheard. His bag was still slumped against the wall beside the door.

Upon further introspection, A'isha didn't know whether to be delighted or disappointed. On the one hand, she'd savoured a longer sleep than expected. But on the other, she'd be stressing over him waking up, bringing buckets of "playful banter" with him. Ish stuck her tongue out at the cringe-worthy way he described their arguing and, in the same thought, she cursed Amara for having zero tact by basically serving the stupid phrase to him on a silver platter.

A'isha's brows knitted together as she realised her tampon was long overdue for a change. Luckily, that time of the month had almost passed. Maybe it already had. A silver lining among the storm that was her life, especially as of late.

With a resigned sigh, A'isha threw her blanket to one side. "Well," she breathed, her feet meeting the soft, grey carpet. "Up and at em, I suppose." She pursed her lips, her next words no more than a whisper as she sluggishly left the bed to face her suitcase. "First things first, I need a tampo-"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You have  _got_  to be freaking kidding me."

A'isha dropped to her knees, fuming as she swung the suitcase lid up a little rougher than necessary.

"Great," she snapped, sifting through her freakishly well folded clothes for her tampons. "I'm stuck with a control freak  _and_  a neat freak!" Ish refused to admit her tampon box was startlingly easy to find as she scooped it up and flipped the lid. "Maybe I should go through his things. See how he li- Actually, no. I'll probably get an unhealthy dose of 'scarred for life' if I d-"

And then she froze, sheer panic sweeping over her face.

The photo.

A'isha all but ripped the clothes from their resting place, not even stopping to savour her destruction of her captor's handiwork as she carelessly discarded each article on the floor in a heap. Her eyes flew frantically over the inner section of her suitcase.

The slightest hint of white seized her attention. In a little nook between the side of the suitcase and underwear that, she thought, surprisingly seemed untouched, was the pizza parlour photo.

Relief filled her in buckets as she plucked up the photograph and, before Mr Terrible Timing had a chance to barge in, she traded the Polaroid for a tampon and stuffed the box at the very bottom of the bag.

Exhaling the breath she'd been holding, A'isha half hoped her things were in a messier state than Mr Neat Freak had found them as she tossed them back in the suitcase. That is, until another thought slapped her wishing away.

What if he'd seen it?

After all, just last night Marik had demonstrated exactly how observant he was.

Would he have spotted it in her suitcase, shamefully forgotten amid a heap of clothes, after she'd quickly stuffed it in said heap when Henny had knocked on the hotel door?

A'isha pensively pursed her lips. Would the photo really still be there if he  _had_  found it? Or would he have taken it, hoping to somehow use it against her? Or, at the very least, use it as proof that she  _had_  been here before?

She hoped against all hope that that wasn't the case.

_I suppose I'll find out soon enou-_

The sound of a yawn-stretch combo interrupted her fretting. Her eyes turned to slits. She knew which room it had come from.

"Marik!"

A'isha rushed to her feet, clearly on a mission as she made haste for his room, shoving common sense aside along with his bedroom door. Worst. Decision. Ever.

The first thing she saw were two lavender orbs the size of saucers, belonging to the blond currently crouched down by his bags. The second- Oh God, the second. A cylindrical bulge that she refused to describe as ginormous, pressed firmly in place thanks to  _especially_  tight black boxer briefs.

Marik had morning wood.

Aaand life was officially over.

Reality came crashing down on her at about the same time that Mr Cover That Thing Up did just that, ripping from his bag what was probably the first top to catch his eye and shielding his crutch from sight. A'isha couldn't even identify the sound that erupted from her throat as she high tailed the heck out of there, slamming the door shut as humiliation flooded through her like a- like a-

She gripped her head tightly, near certain that if she didn't try desperately to hold it down, it would try to fly far, far away from the misfortune that was her life right now.

"Of course," she squealed, sure that tomatoes everywhere were incredibly envious of her complexion right that very second. "I didn't even need to go through his bags to be scarred for life."

* * *

The next ten minutes were spent in the bathroom, almost literally wretching down a relentless dose of regret. The twenty minutes that followed were spent showering, brushing her teeth and changing her tampon. The phrase "Marik does  _not_  get boners" echoed over and over in her head the whole time. But on the bright side – if she could really call it that – her period finally looked to be over.

Before rushing into the bathroom, she'd snatched the first clothes to catch her eye and, surprisingly, they actually worked well enough together; turquoise three-quarters and a black, loose-fitting tank top.

Soft steps and the sound of the electric jug confirmed that Marik had left his room. A'isha groaned, towel-drying her hair for far longer than necessary. A few minutes later, she hung the towel over the railing, taking a particularly long time to straighten out any and all crinkles the material had.

She turned to the door. Her chest rose as she sucked in a sizeable gulp of air. Alright. She  _had_  to face him at some point. Best not to prolong the inevitable- and her stressing over doing so.

Forcing a casual expression onto her face, A'isha gently slid the bathroom door aside. She'd managed two steps into the living area before Blondie's voice had her cringing.

"You ruined my perfect folding."

Of. Freaking. Course.

A'isha didn't know whether to be angry or grateful at his apparent lack of embarrassment. She'd just seen her kidnapper with a- Ugh! He either had no shame at all or was an even better actor than she'd first thought. Her, on the other hand...

"I suppose you just learnt first hand that I don't always bend the truth," he continued, a hint of amusement lining his voice, referring to the comparison he'd made between his 'golden phallic symbol' and his junk.

Great. He was cracking jokes along with a woody. She hoped it was his way of dealing with the awkwardness. Or was that wishful thinking?

"The rod's bigger," she managed to squeak out, avoiding eye contact at all cost. That had sounded way more bitter and way less pitiful in her head.

Marik, of course, only laughed. Then the click of the jug met her ears, followed by familiar steps and the faint splash of pouring water.

A minute passed before, finally, A'isha gathered enough courage to glance his way. He had returned to his seat, coffee in hand as he flicked through what was no doubt another motorcycle magazine. Well- she hoped that was his current reading material of choice given...

A'isha groaned, and realised he was wearing the navy blue tank top he'd used to cover his junk. In addition to that, he'd chucked on a pair of beige cargo pants and what seemed to be his staple, black leather shoes. Surprisingly, Marik had seemingly settled on a jewellery free day today. He looked naked without i- Ugh. Bad timing for  _that_  expression.

"How are you not embarrassed?" she eventually shrieked, half hoping he was. At least  _then_  there'd be some sort of silver lining to the shoddy morning she'd endured so far.

He quirked a brow, a wry smile finding its way onto his lips. "Why should I be embarrassed?" he goaded, savouring the way her features scrunched up in disbelief.

"I just saw- Ugh! Never mind."

"No, go on." In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to wipe that smile clean off his face. "If there's an elephant in the room, please do address it."

Oh, there was an  _elephant_  in the room – or rather, its  _trunk_  – but she sure as hell wasn't about to address it.

"N-No, I'm good."

"Surely there was a reason you saw a little more of me than desired and screamed my name- perhaps not in that order bu-"

"You're disgusting!" she barked, sinking onto her bed with crossed arms and a stubborn look. "And stupid too, if you can't figure out the reason I came into your room on your own!"

Marik's smile stretched. Answer enough, but he spoke anyway. "Your suitcase was a barely contained disaster. I rectified the situation."

"Y'know the key word in that sentence is  _your_ , because it's  _my_  suitcase!"

"Oh really?" Amused, he arched a brow. "Well... my memory is a little foggy. Perhaps you would be so kind as to remind me of exactly  _who_ paid for your things?"

"I-" She snapped her mouth shut, realising that he  _did_  sort of have a point. And she hated him that much more for it. "They're still my things!" she managed to shriek. "Like my  _underwear_  and my-"

"Rest assured that I steered clear of your undergarments." Marik's left hand slid under his chin, his right still maintaining a light grip on his coffee mug. "It is rather amusing, albeit doltish, that you insist for boundaries as far as your personal belongings are concerned." His left hand abandoned his chin to slowly sink onto the table. "I know it's early, but really, Ish, has your current…. predicament… slipped from that stubborn little mind of yours?"

A'isha's face twisted with distaste as his words sunk in. The jerk was implying that her anger was unjustified – or, at the very least, trivial – for he had already gone so far as to kidnap her. If he was capable of that, why should she expect him to give a toss about going through her things? Apparently he was full of good points this morning; whether or not they were  _fair_  points was another argument entirely… one she really couldn't be bothered with. That was why she fell back on what was probably one of her favourite words to use on Blondie.

"Whatever."

"A'isha. . ." She raised an eyebrow at the fact he'd actually used her real name. Not Ish. Or Dear A'isha. Just A'isha. What the- "You really must endeavour to acquire a more diverse diction."

He just  _had_  to follow up the rare use of her name with another jerky comment.

"Why do you always talk like that?"

"Like what?"

"All fancy and formal- but still creepy."

He shrugged. "I only do so on occasion,  _minus_  the creepy."

"How silly of me." She managed a fleeting smirk. "You're creepy  _all_  the time."

When his only reply was one of those rare, odd and near-genuine smiles, a single thought came to mind.

_Maybe creepy is an understatement._

And an uncomfortable silence shrouded the room. At least, it was uncomfortable for her. She doubted Marik cared. Somehow that raging boner hadn't even merited a reaction from the blond. Well, aside from when she'd actually discovered the thing, and he'd quickly covered his crutch from view. It dawned on her then that he  _must_  have been at least  _a little_  humiliated in the aftermath of that super awkward encounter, having covered it and all. That realisation was the culprit for her sudden, satisfied smile... however slight it was.

"Hmm. I can't help but wonder why  _you're_  the one smiling for a change, little Ish."

"Oh. No reason," she said lightly, despite the small smile that remained pasted upon her lips.

"If you say so." Marik slapped the magazine shut and coolly reclined into his seat. "Are you feeling up to eating after your popcorn coma?"

"You're asking like I have a choice," she pointed out.

"You always have a-"

"Oh shush!" she muttered, the words lined with sour sarcasm. "I get it. I always have a choice. Stop saying that, will ya?"

"Are you always so amicable in the morning?"

"No," she said tersely, absently toying with the bed sheet beneath her. "I'm amicable at every waking moment."

"I see." He smoothly slipped from his seat, dumped his now empty mug into the nearby kitchenette sink, and scooped his backpack up off the floor. "So, I repeat, are you ready for breakfast?"

She blinked, barely able to believe he'd hardly taken longer than her to get ready. "Are  _you_?" she drawled in all honesty.

"Would I ask if I wasn't?"

A'isha rolled her eyes in sync with her huff. "Whatever." It really  _was_  one of her favourite words as of late.

* * *

A'isha had predicted a hint of Deja Vu to present itself upon leaving the hotel room. She'd keep two steps behind Marik, striving to be as tight lipped as humanly possible. Neither of those things happened, though not for a lack of trying.

Exhibit A.

"Is How I Met Your Mother your favourite TV show?"

Blue eyes snapped his way. And, sadly, 'his way' was only a few measly inches to her right.

"Wh-What?"

Marik spared a smirk. Half his attention was on her, the other half remained on the street spanning out before them. She recognised the route; he was leading her to the same cafe as yesterday. Apparently Blondie was a creature of habit. Or he was just eager for round two of 'wooing the waitress'. Yeah, that must have been it. . .

A grated, aggravated sigh sliced through her stewing. "Come on, Ish. Must I really repeat myself?"

"Why would you even ask about my favourite things?" She sounded about as sour as she looked. So a lot. She'd thought about asking why he cared, but, really, what was the point? He'd just throw the question back in her face by insisting that he didn't. And he'd probably be right too.

His hands slid into his pockets as he shrugged. "Am I not allowed to make conversation?"

"No."

"What if I claimed to care?"

"Then I'd call you a liar."

"Perhaps I'd like to learn a little more about my loving fiancée."

A'isha screeched to a halt, spinning to glare at her slightly smirking company. "I'm not interested in telling you my life story. Have you forgotten that you kidna-"

Before she knew it, a tanned, warm, admittedly soft – frequently moisturised? – hand was plastered firmly against her lips. Her glare hardened a notch the second she caught up with reality. "Hgh!" she screeched, reaching for his wrist and tearing her mouth free.

The smirk had been swept from his face, replaced by the tiniest hint of panic. "We  _are_  in public, Ish," he warned with narrow eyes. "I suggest you make use of that pretty little head of yours and think before you speak."

A'isha scoffed. "Says Mr Loves The Sound Of His Own Voice!"

Marik huffed in amusement. "You really enjoy nicknaming me, don't you?" His right hand slid under his chin as he continued walking, gesturing with the pointer finger of his left hand for her to follow. Her begrudging expression upon doing just that, while purposely walking two steps behind him, only fuelled that amusement. "There's another that enjoys bestowing upon me some rather infuriating nicknames." He snorted. "I suspect that the two of you would get along famously."

Ish arched a brow. "Why? Do they hate you too?"

Marik halted just shy of the door to their destination. "She and I have an… interesting relationship."

"So she hates you," she sarcastically stated, unable to resist a smirk the second he rolled his eyes. "Well you don't exactly strike me as the type to even have friendly acquaintances, let alone  _friends_  or, God forbid, a  _girlfriend_." Marik opened his mouth to speak, but, for once, A'isha bet him to the punch. "You said  _she_. Do you mean that Benu lady you talked to the other day?"

"Yes." The single word came strained and terse.

"What does  _she_  call you? Besides Dear Mister R-"

Another hand to the mouth.

"Whgh!" Ish shrieked, the sound shrill and high pitched. She ripped his hand away a second later. "Would you stop doing that?!"

"I pray you have far more tact than this come Sunday night." His face was enough to indicate he was dead serious.

A devious smile crept across her lips. "Worried I'll blow your whole charade?" she said lightly.

"It would be wise for you to take said charade seriously. After all, little Amara's well-being is at stake." The arrogant smirk returned. "And speaking of charades..." He took two steps and effortlessly pulled the cafe door aside, flourishing his hand toward the eatery's interior. "Shall we?"

A'isha refused to thank him as she entered the establishment. A frown tugged at her lips the second she saw that Carina girl that had served them yesterday, beaming as she bounced over from the counter across the cafe. She definitely recognised them.

A'isha recalled the sickening display of what could only be describe as flirting that she'd had the misfortune of witnessing the morning prior. "Aaand out comes Mr Wretch-Worthy Wooer," she muttered, self-pity descending upon her with a vengeance.

"Closely followed by Miss Incredibly Envious," he shot back with a wink.

"Envious of someone lucky enough to be far, far away from here."

Carina was within earshot before Marik had a chance to counter her bitter comment with another irking one of his own. Not that he seemed to care, if the overzealous grin now lighting up his visage was any indication.

"Hey, Carina!" he said cheerfully, his whole demeanour suddenly shifting to one of warmth and sickly sweet joy. "How are you doing today?"

Carina blushed, probably because the beaming blond remembered her name.

All the while, A'isha squirmed in the background, wishing for nothing more than a particularly large rock to crawl under to die of second hand embarrassment.

"Well I'm way better now that you're here!" Carina enthused, clearly fixated on Marik; however, she spared a glance A'isha's way following those words. Maybe she'd realised that could've come across as a flirty advance, considering it had been directed at the guy she believed was A'isha's significant other. Barf.

"After the awesome service you gave us yesterday, my girlfriend and I just  _had_  to come back!"

A'isha resisted an eye roll. Barely. It had dawned upon her that even his diction was different thanks to his stupid façade. It was less concise and more casual, void of the fancy words he just loved to flaunt.

"And I'm glad you did!" Carina chirped as she scooped up a few menus. She led them to the same two-seater table they'd used yesterday. "Would you like the breakfast menu or the lunch one?"

"What time is it?" A'isha blurted out, realising she hadn't actually checked the clock back in their suite that morning. Her mind had been occupied by, err, other things. Like the unyielding agony of embarrassment at seeing- Ick!  _If my brain could just stop reminding me, that'd be swell!_

"Almost noon," Carina said through her stewing, showing a ghost of a smile. "How does the saying go? Times flies when you're having fun? I'm sure this guy", she gestured to Blondie, "is  _bucket loads_  of fun!"

"You have no idea," A'isha muttered, sure she'd caught a second-long smirk sweep across Marik's countenance.

Her mind decided to be anything but merciful as it wandered on back to the reason for her  _first hand_ embarrassment today. Typical. Ish's eyes sunk to the floor as she nearly stumbled into her seat, while Marik claimed his in a more composed manner.

They settled on the lunch menu, to which Carina proceeded to point out their dish of the day, before jotting down their desired drinks – black coffee for Marik, an iced chocolate for Ish – and, finally, Marik's flirting dummy left them to mull over what meals they'd like. A'isha didn't know how much more hurl-worthy chit chat she could take.

"You hear that, Ish?"

He'd opted on speaking Arabic; possibly to reduce the odds of someone successfully eavesdropping. It wasn't nearly as commonly understood here as English was.

She glanced up from the table cloth she'd been focussing most of her energy on staring down. Anything was better than watching him. "What?" she sourly said, hating every inch of his mocking smile.

She grimaced as Marik leaned into the table, a sugary smile seemingly stained upon his lips since they'd entered this wretched place. "I'm bucket loads of fun."

"You're bucket loads of infuriating, is what you are."

He clucked his tongue thrice. "Come now, Ish. You hardly know me."

"I know you well enough," she grumbled, glaring at him.

"Is that so?" Marik grinned, attention firmly on her as he reclined into his seat with folded arms. "Enlighten me. What is my favourite colour?"

"Purple."

"What led you to that assumption?"

"When I asked you if purple was your lucky colour the other night, you had a lot to say about it."

"Fair observation." He cocked his head. "Would I be correct in saying that your favourite colour is orange?"

A'isha narrowly suppressed a groan as she silently cursed the proposition's dress. Of course he'd chosen a garment in her favourite hue.

"I'll take your silence as a yes."

"Whatever."

"You never did answer my question regarding your favourite TV show," he said coolly, ignoring her grudging attempt at ending the conversation. "Is it How I Met Your Mother?"

"It  _was_ ; until  _you_  decided to like it."

"What show has taken its place?"

A'isha arched a brow. Why was he just brushing off her bitter comments? And asking these things in the first place? Why would Mr Manipulative care at all?

 _He doesn't,_  Ish quickly reminded herself.  _But why-_  She shook her head, as though striving to be rid of these ridiculously stupid questions. He didn't care. End of story.

"Well?"

A'isha exhaled slowly, surmising she could simply answer his silly question and be done with it. "Friends _._ "

Marik cocked a brow; a silent request for further elaboration. Hooray! More talking!

Not.

"It's an older TV show. A comedy. Kind of similar in style to How I Met Your Mother."

"So you enjoy comedies?"

"Mm." That'd shut him u-

"I prefer dramas myself. And science fiction. Documentaries. Genres that are more serious." His sights shifted to the lunch menu, but, to A'isha's dismay, he kept on blabbing, his tone casual and his visage calm. She reminded herself that he was Mr Loves The Sound Of His Own Voice. And he was talking about himself. This really shouldn't have been surprising. "Star Trek is a favourite, particularly the original with Captain Kirk. Stargate is another. I recently watched the first season of Game of Thrones. That was intriguing; the books even more so. I also enjoy crime shows, a favourite being Criminal Minds."

Oh great. He liked Criminal Minds. With her beloved Shemar Moore. As if he couldn't sink any lower, he just  _had_  to ruin one of her favourite shows- especially for eye candy.

"As for documentaries..." He continued to prattle on and on. She didn't pay attention, instead opting on skimming through the menu. That is, until she detected an underlying questioning tone to his words.

"What?"

"You weren't listening." It was a simple observation rather than an irked remark.

"You really love to talk about yourself, don't you?"

"By all means, feel free to take the stage, so to speak." He revealed a wry smile. "Ra knows, you'll need the practice to ensure that our act for the proposition is convincing."

Carina returned then, a mug in one hand and a tall glass in the other. "As requested, a black coffee and an iced chocolate." She gently set each drink down before their respective owners. "Were you guys ready to order?" the smiling girl continued and, like yesterday, A'isha couldn't help but notice how she stared a little longer, smiling a little brighter, at Sir Jerk-A-Lot.

"I'm ready to order," Marik said with a grin, swapping back to English. Then he glanced across the table. "How about you, Ish?"

She nodded once, sending a smile Carina's way. "Can I please have the tortellini?"

"One tortellini coming up." She turned to Marik. "And for you?"

Another disgustingly warm smile. "The vegetarian lasagne sounds delicious! Could I please have that?"

"You sure can," Carina insisted, her smile widening. She didn't bother to jot down the dishes. "Will that be all? Or is there anything else I can get for you two?"

"That will be all, Carina," Marik chimed. "Thanks so much!"

"No problem. Do call me if you need anything!"

"Will do!" he happily returned, while Ish merely settled on a quiet 'thank you' and an imaginary gag. It wasn't nearly as satisfying as feigning a gag out loud.

"Now then." That familiar hint of ice had immediately returned to his voice; he'd resorted back to speaking in Arabic. A'isha would've thought Blondie was bipolar, had she not witnessed his acting skills first hand. "I've mentioned my favourite shows. It's only fair that you divulge the same details to me."

"Nothing's fair when you're involved."

"Don't be like that, Ish," he almost coaxed, evoking a cringe from his company. "Okay. Let's play a little game."

"Y'know what? I'm good to just sit in silence," she grumbled, turning to her iced chocolate for comfort. Admittedly, it  _was_  pretty dang tasty, especially with the cream on top, complete with two marshmallows and a swirl of chocolate sauce.

"Did I say the game was optional?"

"I thought I always had a choice," she ridiculed.

"You do; but for every choice, there is a subsequent consequence."

His counter argument was met by a bitter groan.

"Now then; the first person to guess fifteen facts about the other decides what we're doing today."

"That's not fair!"

"Why not?" By his amused smirk, she could tell he already knew the answer, but she barked it out anyway.

"What's to stop you from using the rod? Or who's to say you don't already know fifteen facts about me through Amara? And let's not forget that I don't trust you one bit. I highly doubt you'd follow through with the 'prize' if I won!"

Marik shrugged. "Does it matter? I decide what we do in either case. At least this way there's a  _chance_  that you may just obtain what you want."

Ish huffed. "That's if I  _actually_  won."

Marik tsked. "My my my. You have so little faith in yourself, Ish."

"How about this?" She paused to sip her drink. "You list  _twenty_  true facts about me to make up for that stupid rod. I list  _fifteen_  true facts about you. Nothing obvious like, say, the colour of my hair is black, that I've never been to the moon or that I've worn a tank top before or something. It has to be meatier, requiring a little more thinking than that. Plus it can't be something we've  _outright_   _told_ the other person. We guess until we get something wrong, at which point the other person interrupts and starts with their own list of facts. Whoever reaches their assigned amount of true facts first wins."

"Deal."

A'isha couldn't help but cringe. He was so sure of himself that he hadn't even hesitated. Great.

"You start," Marik continued, holding out his hand as a silent cue to do just that.

She had fifteen facts to figure out. He had twenty. And yet he was offering for  _her_  to go first. Maybe 'sure of himself' was a bit of an understatement.

_The cocky jerk._

A'isha sighed, shuffling through her musings and memories as she sought out fact number one. She soon recalled the ankh symbol amid the carvings on his back. "You're from Egypt…" Her mind wandered to that damn soup, not to mention his choice of dishes here in Italy. "You're a vegetarian…" She bit her lip. "You're a multi millionaire… Your favourite character in How I Met Your Mother is Barney… Aaaand… you're trilingual."

"I'll stop you there." He smirked. "As a polyglot, I speak far more than three languages."

Dismay drilled its way into her mind. "What other languages do you speak?" she nearly shrieked.

"Why not guess when it is next your turn?"

 _That's assuming I get another turn,_  she thought, scowling at the boy across from her.

"My move." His smirk grew. "You're bilingual, working on French as a third language..." Marik's elbows settled on the table, where he threaded his fingers together, then finally nestled his chin on his hands, a thoughtful expression sweeping across his face in place of his trademark smirk. "You play at least one musical instrument…"

Yes, she played the guitar fairly well, courtesy of Dani. And wasn't too shabby on a piano either, thanks to Julie. She even had a portable piano stowed away in her wardrobe back home, a hand-me-down from her bestie.

A'isha cleared her throat. "Why don't you list something Amara wouldn't know?" she challenged, flashing a taunting smile. It was gone the second the expression reminded her of her company.

"I must say, there are gaps that I didn't expect to find in your cousin's mind." He drawled once more. "There was nothing that should inevitably be known, and as you live together, it's curious that she doesn't know your favourite colour, your comfort foods, or favourite books; she's not even aware of which famous males you fawn over. The lack of that last one surprises me; I'd think your cousin would be quite interested in that particular detail over anything else." His left hand dropped to the table as he instead rested his chin on top of his curled right hand. "And yet I'm certain you know all of those details about her."

"You're going off topic."

"Alright." The smirk returned. "Hypothetically speaking, if you had to choose between singing or dancing as far as pursuing a career goes, you'd choose singing… Math is your weakest subject… You like chocolate pretzels because the chocolate gives the sweet while the pretzel offers the salty… And you yell at the characters in movies you've seen before… You-"

She blinked twice, torn between impressed and appalled. She settled on the latter. "Are you serious?" she screeched. "You- You must be using the rod on me to-"

"I assure you that that is not the case," he coolly said. She refused to believe him.

"Fine." She glared daggers at the blond. "Cheat away then."

"Now where was I?" he drawled, sarcasm lining every word. "Ah yes. You find reading Shakespeare boring… You've had more than one boyfriend-"

"My turn," she interrupted with a sweet smile of her own. To her chagrin, he only grinned. Apparently, he was enjoying himself a little too much. Her eyes narrowed. "You  _were_  embarrassed about your little friend this morning."

"I wouldn't necessarily consider that statement to be a fact." His grin was ridiculous as he continued, "It was anything but  _little_."

Immediately, she faked a wretch. He only grinned wider. It looked like he was  _just_  resisting the urge to say something in response. She commended him for, at the very least, displaying an ounce of self-control. For once. Though his  _little_ comment had reminded her…

"You're pedantic," she pointed out.

He snorted, his grin remaining. Yep, he was definitely enjoying himself too much right now. "I'll give you it," he stated, motioning for her to continue.

He'd basically handed her that one with just now and he knew it.  _I'm not surprised that the jerk's pedantic. That's what got me into this mess. I learnt his name, something seemingly trivial when taking his fancy stick into account. It can probably get him out of any sticky situation that's thrown his way, even if Ahad_ did  _know his stupid name; so what's the big deal?_

She recalled the sarcastic "touché" he'd sent her way during their first meeting. "You speak French…" He didn't stop her. She must've been right. Ish pursed her lips, mulling over his own answers for clues. One hit her instantly. "You  _do_  enjoy reading Shakespeare…" She was admittedly surprised when he said nothing. An evil jerk such as himself enjoying _Shakespeare_? What the dickens? "Okay…" she drawled, her face scrunching up in thought. "You… dye your hair."

"Wrong." He flashed a smug smile. She simply returned it with one of her infamous eye rolls, though the tiniest part of her had to wonder how his hair was naturally  _that_  blond. "You overthink. And that's a fact." She hated to admit it, but the jerk was right. "And much like the pretzels, when you go to the cinema, you get pieces of chocolate candy and combine it with your popcorn."

A'isha's face sunk. That habit had only sprung to life since she'd started dating Dani- he'd introduced her to the deliciousness that was popcorn mixed with chocolate. And Amara hadn't been to the movies with her in years so… "You have to be using-"

"Again, I'm not." Another smug smile. "I'm simply good at guessing."

"Sure you are," she muttered, a pout pasted on her visage.

"Your favourite season is Winter because you usually get to spend it with Julie's family in England."

Of course. She tells him she usually visits her bestie's family in the UK around Christmas. He gets that out of it. Or he was cheating. Either way was terrifying.

"You generally avoid using the title of "aunt" when speaking of Elissa, no doubt due to your disdain for her." Maybe thinking him 'observant' was an understatement. . . "That puts me at eleven." His eyes narrowed on nothing in particular. She could almost  _see_  the gears turning in that infuriating blond head of his. "You like spontaneity… You don't like having passengers in your car; it's your alone time… And you only wear one make up item almost daily: mascara."

"Faux," she stated with a smirk; the French equivalent for 'wrong'. "I wear  _two_  make up items almost daily: mascara and eyeliner." She thoughtfully toyed with the straw for her drink. Sadly, only a few sips of chocolatey goodness remained within the glass. "You, on the other hand,  _hate_  spontaneity." He'd almost served that one to her on a silver platter. "You're in some way related to Odion…" He didn't interrupt. Interesting. "You have a sweet tooth… You clean your jewellery at least weekly."

"Semi-weekly, but you accounted for that in your wording." In response A'isha merely rolled her eyes.

"You prefer reading to television…" It was partly a guess, partly prompted by the piles of books she'd noticed stacked on a shelf in one corner of his room. Even if he had mentioned watching a heap of TV shows just now. Okay, so maybe she was running out of ideas. "Hmm. You…"

 _Think think think._ The words echoed in her head. She set down her fork, instead resorting to burying her face in her hands, something she always did when thinking hard. . . Julie always teased her for it, as the girl would often catch her doing it during exams- or just at school in general.

"You're an insomniac." He said nothing, but he did glance at his empty mug. She wondered if he was considering getting another. Geeze; two coffees in the span of an hour.

She straightened then, realising she'd already given fourteen facts… One to go! She had to make it cou-

Her thoughts of self-encouragement were cut short as Carina swooped in with two steaming hot plates. "The tortellini for  _you_." She set the dish down before her, prompting another meek 'thanks' in response. Marik's disgustingly warm smile was out to play once more as the girl turned to him. "And for  _you_ , sir, the vegetarian lasagne."

"Why thank you," he replied in English, sending a grin Carina's way that almost had Ish losing her appetite.

After a few more vomit-inducing exchanges between Carina and Creeper McCreeperson, the girl bounced on off to another table.

Marik's smirk returned, his lavender irises set on Ish as he casually picked up his cutlery. "Continue." Back to Arabic. And his voice was, of course, also back to being as arrogant as always.

"You're a flirt," she muttered, nudging the food on her plate.  _Thanks, Carina, for that one._

"Wrong."

Instantly, A'isha was beyond unimpressed. So much for making it count. "What? Like hell I-"

"It's called charm, charisma and acting."

"I call bullsh-"

"My fact. You're jealous."

She scoffed, stabbing a piece of tortellini a little too viciously. "If I'm jealous of her, it's because she gets to go home, sleep in her own bed and forget about  _you_."

"Regardless, you admit that you are jealous in some fashion, hence the fact I have given is true; therefore, I only have six facts to go."

Her tortellini had fallen victim to a ferocious scowl. "Fine," she spat.

"You prefer savoury foods to sweet… You wanted that vanilla scented shampoo back in Marina; however, you avoided it because I use a shampoo with the same scent." Typical. He'd noticed her mulling it over in the pharmacy. "Furthermore, as a separate fact, your preferred shampoo scent is strawberry. The shop was out of stock."

"How do you-"

"I caught a hint of it on the day we met, the moment you entered your living room after showering."

His keen-eye – and apparently  _nose_  – for detail was basically bordering on creepy now.

"You struggle to open up to most," he murmured softly, gently, almost delicately. "It leaves you feeling vulnerable, which then leads you to feeling awkward."

A'isha went rigid. From foods to opening up. Well, that escalated quickly. And there was  _no way_  he wasn't cheating! No one could read someone this well after interacting as little as they had! She wrung her hands, wishing they were back at the hotel so she could shout her frustrations at the jerk! How dare he!

"Another fact- Throughout this game, you've been continually thinking that my ability to read you is all thanks to the Millennium Rod." He chortled. "I believe I only have one more."

She did  _not_  like the way he'd said that last sentence. Not. One. Bit. Like he'd been waiting for this moment. Like he'd had his final fact up his sleeve this whole time. Like he was about to savour something particularly sweet. Or, in her case, repulsively  _sour_.

Her expression become pointed; beyond mistrustful. While his smirk was small and yet, somehow, more taunting than ever. Almost triumphant. She had a feeling that triumph didn't just stem from the fact he was most likely about to win this stupid game of his.

It wasn't.

"You've  _never_  been here before."

Wait.

Her brows gathered. Her mind raced.

That wasn't true. Why did he even say-

A'isha's confusion was cut short the second that small smirk of his proceeded to spread from ear to ear. She stared daggers his way, gripping the fork so hard her hand was shaking. He knew it wasn't true. He'd said a false fact on purpose. He was  _waiting_  for her to correct him. . . because it would mean admitting that she had, in fact, been here before.

There was only one way he could've known that detail with certainty.

Her next words were barely above whisper, spoken through trembling lips that were merely a hair away from holding back a sob.

"You've seen the photo."

He was silent. His lips set in a firm line. His expression unreadable.

Answer enough.

"You really  _are_  an asshole."

Just like that, A'isha dumped her fork on the table, swept from her seat, and stormed for the exit. She didn't care if it got her in trouble. Consequences be damned, all she wanted in that moment was to get as far away from the jerk as  _alienly_  possible. So hopefully a bajillion light-years away.

A'isha was a fraction away from breaking into an all out sprint as she instead walked briskly to the first place that came to mind. And to her immense surprise, Blondie was nowhere in sight.

* * *

Her bare feet swung through the air. Wind whistled and rattled the leaves around her. Streaks of light peaked through the cracks in the leaves to cast a disarray of dots across the green grass below.

A'isha knew he'd find her. Avoiding him hadn't been her goal; not her long term one anyway. Her cousin was still at stake, a fact of which she was all too painfully aware.

 _But Marik is all about details,_  she told herself, knowing she was a loose end – and one that he wouldn't risk being the end of  _him_. He'd find her first and follow through on his threats later. And he knew she wouldn't risk her cousin's safety. . .  _knew_  that she wouldn't try to rat him out. All she wanted in that moment was a little breathing room. Was that too much to ask for?

Probably.

But Marik wasn't stupid. He  _knew_  she needed some space. He  _knew_  that riling her up beyond being able to reconcile in some form would only be a hindrance. He  _knew_  he needed her to tolerate him, to a point, for the proposition to be convincing.

After that. . .

She tried to not think about it.

A'isha pursed her lips, wondering if those were the reasons for his marginally less jerky self lately. Or, at the very least, why he'd opened up a little more.  _No._  Her face hardened, her lips falling into a straight line.  _He only did that to set me up. To make me admit that I'd been here before._

Crackling down below caught her attention. Steps she knew and hated. Oh boy.

A'isha scowled at the sky or, rather, the cloak of green hues that shielded her sights from most of the blue blanket beyond it. Only slivers of cerulean peaked through the gaps in the leaves.

The steps stopped just below. She heard him exhale slowly. Then the faint rustling of grass and the high pitched zip of a bag. She caught the occasional flick of paper, like the page of a book. Perhaps he was reading; she was too stubborn to check.

A few silent minutes ticked on by before the urge to look became too strong. A'isha tore her eyes from above to stare down. Blondie had pulled out a book, surprisingly not a magazine, and was apparently immersed in the thing where he casually sat, leaning against the tree trunk. He'd stretched his left leg out before him, while his right was bent at a forty five degree angle with his elbow on top of his knee, his hand on that same side currently holding his book with little effort.

Marik seemed to sense her eyes on him, for he glanced up from his book to meet her gaze. She snapped her cerulean sight to her immediate right, staring at the thick tree trunk, but not before she'd caught him cock his head in a curious manner.

"Are you ready to come down yet?" The query was soft, baring none of that sickening iciness she'd grown accustomed too. Somehow, it was more unsettling than the ice his voice usually possessed.

"I don't think I'll ever be ready to come down," she grumbled just loud enough for him to catch it.

She wasn't looking, but didn't miss him chuckle. "Let me rephrase the question then, shall I?" He paused. "When can I expect you to leave that tree?"

"When I'm ready."

Rather amused, he snorted. "You're making this very difficult, Ish."

"Now you know how it feels."

"You know, Ish, this would be far easier if you were down here." She couldn't tell if he was being genuine or taunting her. She settled on the latter; the former sounded simply impossible.

"I'm doing just fine up here."

"It always comes back to that stubbornness and pride..."

"What?"

"Nothing." She could just hear the mirth in his voice. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, your food is going to get cold."

"And  _I've_  said before that I don't care."

"A'isha, just come down here," he warned, though she swore a teasing edge was tousled through the demand. "Don't make me say 'please'."

"I wouldn't even expect 'please' to be a part of that  _diverse diction_  of yours," she mocked, then almost instantly recalled Carina; "That is, unless you're luring some poor, unsuspecting girl into your evil clutches."

At that, Marik's laugh bordered on hearty, and she finally glared  _freshly sharpened_  knives his way; after all, only half an hour earlier he'd given her yet  _another_  reason to hate him.

"I wasn't kidding," she growled.

Marik only sighed in response and, a few seconds later, she went rigid as he tucked a place holder into his book. She couldn't quite make out what it looked like from this distance; only that is was a deep shade of purple. . . of course. He turned to his shoes, working on loosening the laces where he sat, still reclined against the tree.

"What are you doing?" she called out, leaning a little to get a better look at the blond pain in the butt.

A'isha's tone had proven she already knew the answer to her question. She was torn between dread and hope; she dreaded the thought of him reaching her, but hoped he'd fall flat on his face.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he countered, now sliding off a sock to tuck it inside one of his plush leather shoes.

"I thought you hated being spontaneous!"

"I do," he shouted tersely, glancing up at her before removing his second sock. His next sentence oozed with sarcasm. "Apparently spontaneity is a downside of 'luring poor, unsuspecting girls into my evil clutches'."

"Have you climbed a tree before?"

"No."

And just like that, hope slapped dread clear from her mind. Oh, this was gonna be  _good_. No- better than good. . . Great. Brilliant. Marvellous. Spectacular. Once in a lifetime.

Marik looked up at her once more, grinning away. "But I know the theory behind it."

Why did she have a hunch he used that line a little too much? That  _this_  was only the start. . . A'isha snorted in amusement, picturing the jerk using that line for a myriad of things.  _Oh, I've never treated anyone with respect, but I know the theory behind doing so… I've never kissed someone on the lips, but I know the theory behind doing it… I've never cooked Lobster Thermidor, but I know the theory behind it... I've never had a girlfriend, but I know the theory behind having one._

A'isha peered down at the ground to find Sir Jerk-A-Lot in an all out staring competition with the tree. She had a feeling the tree was going to win. "Is eyeing it down until it submits to your every whim a part of your theory?" she called out, then pursed her lips far too tightly, sure she'd bust out into a fit of laughter if she didn't.

When he actually sent a glare  _her_  way, A'isha finally lost it. A snort grated the back of her throat, followed by a short burst of laughter.

"How fitting that the first time I hear you laugh is at my expense."

"Well what else could I possibly laugh at given my circumstances this week?" She paused, then continued the second he opened his mouth to speak more infuriating nonsense. "Stop prolonging your embarrassment and start trying to climb."

Marik merely shook his head, appearing oddly focussed as he found a little nook on the tree for each hand, then another for his right foot. A faint smile of anticipation tugged at the edges of Ish's mouth at she watched, praying with all her might for Mr Suave Steps to fall. He was half way up the tree when she got her wish. She could've sworn a muted "damn it" hissed through his lips as he lost his footing, skidding down the tree until improvisation took over, willing him to push off the trunk and fall flat on his butt.

Best. Day. Ever.

Not really. But it was most definitely the highlight of her week. Sir Jerk-A-Lot hadn't been knocked off his high horse, but landing butt first on the ground was a start.

"Oh I'm sorry," A'isha called out between bouts of snickering. "I thought you knew the theory behind it."

Marik immediately found his feet and dusted himself off, and she dang well  _knew_  he was embarrassed this time as, all the while, he was scanning the park for any potential witnesses. Brilliant.

A'isha couldn't tell from her spot high in the tree if anyone else  _had_ witnessed that glorious moment, what with the many leaves blocking her view, but she sure as heck hoped someone had.

"A'isha, get down here or I'll eat your damn food."

"You're a vegetarian."

"Because I don't care for the texture," he muttered, clearly more than a little disgruntled after his failure. "Not for any ethical reasons."

"And here I was thinking you were a friend to all animals." Sarcasm sung from every word. Like 'ethical' could ever be used to describe Marik in any sense!

She heard him groan. Oh, how the tables had turned.

A minute passed before he finally spoke.

"Where to?"

Perplexed, A'isha raised a brow at the blond whose lavender gaze was set on the soil beneath his feet. She was perplexed more so because of  _what_  he'd said rather than the semi-bitter way in which he'd said it.

"What?"

"Your final fact was true. I  _did_  see the photo." Then Marik looked up, his expression firm, lips pursed into a straight line. Her expression was much the same, with a twist of rage at the admission. "Therefore you won the game." He heaved a sigh. "So, I'll repeat myself only once. Where to?"

"The nearest police sta-"

"No."

She glared at Marik, any joy his misfortune had brought her having long since disappeared; but it had been worth a shot.

"How about somewhere far, far away from you?"

The smirk he showed had her expression souring furthermore. "I believe the prize was that the winner would be given the choice to decide on what  _we're_  doing today."

"And this is why you're pedantic." She huffed. "But fine- two can play at that game.  _I'll_ hang out in the hotel, binging on room service to my heart's content and without consequence.  _You_  can steer clear of the hotel and can in no way bother me for the rest of the day." There was no use in asking to do anything outside of their hotel  _alone_ ; he'd without a doubt shut her down instantly.

"Agree to a limit of fifty Euros on that room service binge and I'll agree to the rest."

"Fine," she hissed through clenched teeth. "A limit of fifty Euros on room service."

"Deal. Now come down."

A'isha sent a pointed look down at her captor. "How do I know you aren't just saying this to get me down from this tree?"

A sweet smile flittered across his face. "You'll just have to trust me."

"Says the guy who went through my things and, y'know, that's only the tip of the iceberg."

Marik merely replied with a chortle and a head shake.

She sighed long and loud, knowing she didn't really have much of a choice, as much as the jerk would just  _love_  to say otherwise. If she stayed in that tree, he'd stick around until she finally caved and came down. Because he was just as stubborn as her- probably more so. . . something else he'd just  _love_ to deny, and already had on Wednesday night!

A begrudging expression settled on her visage. "Okay," she uttered, shuffling along on her rear atop the thick branch she currently occupied to reach the tree trunk. She scaled down it with ease and hoped it pained him to see.

As she reached the bottom, half expecting some snide remark or a firm grip around her wrist, A'isha was surprised to be met with silence as Blondie instead worked on getting back into his leather shoes.

 _Let's see how long it lasts,_  she sourly stewed, glaring at the universe as she effortlessly slipped into her nearby black flats.

A'isha stiffened half a minute later at the mere sound of his voice.

"Alright. Let's go."

A'isha didn't bother to speak as Marik motioned towards the pathway she'd used to get here. Instead, she fell in line two steps behind him as he headed back the way they'd came, walking at a surprisingly brisk pace for once in his life.

* * *

Their walk back to the hotel was silent. And with that silence, somehow, came copious amounts of awkwardness. For once, A'isha had a hunch that she hadn't been the only one to feel it.

The sweet sense of relief washed over her as Marik withdrew their suite's card from his leather wallet and slipped it into the locking mechanism on the door. She was  _almost_  alone.

Marik inched the door open, then stepped aside, waving a tanned hand inside the room as he did. She merely stormed past the blond, though not without an eye roll at his 'act of chivalry'. Ish was sure she heard him chuckle.

With eyes narrowed to slits, she spun on her heel to grip the door handle. "Now begone, foul creature," she basically snapped at the boy in the doorway who was clearly struggling to suppress a smirk. Then she shoved the door shut- well, she  _tried_  to.

Marik's left hand slapped against its wooden surface and, to her complete and utter dismay, he firmly held the door in place.

"This classifies as bothering me-"

"Last night you asked for a call."

Ish froze as he propped his side of the door against his left shoulder to hold it in place, therefore freeing up his left hand to slide a cell phone out of his cargo pants pocket. She recognised the device as the same one he'd flaunted on their drive back to the launch in Marina, when he'd infuriatingly pointed out that she'd found a great place to keep her cell phone while driving. It was the same model as the one he'd crushed, but in black instead of sapphire blue.

Shocked cerulean met pensive lavender.

"What are you-"

"I shouldn't have gone through your suitcase." The confession came soft, slow, and deliberate, and A'isha was no less confused. In fact, she was  _more_  confused. He was… apologising? Well, not exactly, but it was likely the closest he'd come to it.

And now he was letting her make that call. Her stomach squirmed. She could feel each thump of her heart as it pounded in her chest. She should've been excited. Instead, as reality came crashing down on her, A'isha was terrified. They'd have endless questions for her. What would she possibly say?

"I don't-"

"Ten minutes. With me in the room. On speaker phone." He glanced up and down the hotel hallway, and his next words were slow and almost inaudible. "You've been kidnapped. That's all I'll allow you to say concerning your current circumstances. Breach these terms and there will be… unpleasant consequences."

A'isha's attention travelled to Marik's right hand, his fingers sliding over one wing of the rod hooked on his belt. She swallowed hard.

"My patience is dwindling…"

"Y-Yes," she stuttered out her agreement to the terms. She'd never thank him. He didn't deserve it.

Marik slipped into the room, dropping his backpack to the floor and allowing the door to click shut behind him. His eyes dropped to the device in his hand with his thumb pressed against the power button as he presumably turned it on, then held it out to her.

"You have ten minutes, from when whomever you call picks up. I will be keeping time."

A'isha narrowly resisted the urge to snatch the device from him, figuring he might just change his mind if she did. She watched as he spared a glance at the clock above the bathroom door while claiming a seat at the dining table. His expression was stoic. His arms were twisted across his chest. And now, his eyes were dead set on her.

She checked the same clock: 1:43 PM.

As she sucked in a slow and deep breath of air, A'isha gave thought of turning her back to him. A small arch of his brow quickly quashed the idea and soon enough, she was focused on the phone that was utterly trembling in her hands while she could feel him watching her every minute movement. She refused to acknowledge the way her fingers hesitated. . . that they were making it painfully difficult to dial the far too familiar number. She struggled to flick on speaker phone too. Ish was nervous –  _so nervous_  – as she held the cell phone a few inches shy of her mouth. It shook in her grasp almost to the point where if she didn't have a death grip on it, the phone would have flown across the room in five seconds.

It rang thrice, each one hitting in her chest like a small battering ram.

Then someone picked up.

"Hello?"

The familiar voice instantly swept a wave of emotions over her: joy, fear, fondness, sadness, dismay… She felt as though she'd been whirled through a blender, whizzing up a heaping pile of emotions until one in particular overruled all else.

Guilt.

And she hated it.

Ish sunk into the nearby couch, agonisingly aware of the lavender eyes that were on her as she gripped the couch's edge in a desperate attempt to curb her trembling.

"Uhh. . .  _Hello?_ " they repeated, puzzled.

Another swallow.

. . .

"Hey Jules..."


	21. Chapter 20: Who's Worse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya errybody! Hope you're well! :)
> 
> Just a few FYIs before we get started:
> 
> This chapter has a lengthy flashback, so we didn't want to put it in italics. Instead, we point out where the flashback starts and ends. Hope no one minds and that it doesn't ruin the flow of the writing.
> 
> Also, just a warning- we don't want to spoil the chapter, but please note that any opinions relating to the use of medication in this chapter are the character's alone and are not meant to offend anyone. Professional advice is always the best way to go! Also, there's a bit of vulgar language, because the situation called for it. You'll see what we mean.
> 
> Enjoy the reading!

**Chapter Twenty: Who's Worse?**

A gasp sliced through the speaker. Followed by shallow, shaky breathes. Then silence. A long, painful silence.

A'isha spared a glance at the phone screen. She'd already used almost thirty seconds of time. Just as she opened her mouth to say something – she hadn't figured out what yet – the silence was abruptly interrupted by a name she  _hadn't_  expected.

"Hunter!"

Julie's nickname for her beau of four years – also known as his surname. Wherever her bestie was, she must've been with him. That was fine. Actually, that was  _more_  than fine. After all, Aiden was undoubtedly the closest thing she had to a big brother.

Ish heard shuffling… rushed steps… a deep voice, brimming with confusion. She could tell it was Aiden's.

A'isha caught movement from directly ahead. She barely registered that she was biting her lip as she glanced up to find her captor still occupying what was apparently his favourite chair of the four that circled the table. His stoic expression hadn't faltered. His bare, toned arms were still folded across his chest, somewhat crinkling the navy blue cloth of his tank top. But he'd decided to cross his legs. That must've been what caught her eye-

_Slam!_

Ish stiffened in fright where she sat on the burgundy two-seater couch, having been a hair away from throwing the device in her hand clear across the room. It sounded like the girl had slammed a door.

A little crackling, like someone fumbling with the phone on the other end.

Then.

"Ish?" a hushed voice breathed through the line. "Holy crap! Is it really you?!"

"Y-Yeah."

"Are- Are you okay?"

A'isha knew what her bestie was  _really_  asking: 'Has whoever you're stuck with hurt you in  _any_  way?' She was just glad that Julie hadn't voice it, along with copious amounts of embarrassment thanks to the jerk being right there with her.

She swallowed hard, hating the lavender gaze currently fixed on her. She stared a little too hard at the phone in her still-shaking grip, shying away from his sights. The only thing keeping her from squirming further still was the fact that she was  _actually talking to her best friend_ , something that had seemed so inconceivable after the week she'd had. And yet, here she was.

"I'm okay… For the most part."

"Oh, thank God!" Julie cried through the line. "She's okay, Aiden!"

"Thank goodness for that!" Ish heard the boy's voice, though it wasn't quite as loud as his girlfriend's. He was probably standing beside her. "Ask her if the lowlife pricks regret taking her yet."

And just like that, A'isha was torn between missing her friends like crazy and bursting out into a fit of laughter, especially considering the 'lowlife prick' in question had just heard him say that.

"Aiden!" she heard Jules shriek, and was sure the girl had smacked him.

"Ow!"

Yep. She'd smacked him.

"Jules, do you remember how much she hated me before we went out?" Aiden pointed out, sparking scores of memories in her mind's eye.

Back when they were twelve. It had been April. Aiden picked on Julie once. Ish found out and went all 'protective best friend' on his butt. He never did it again. And a few months later, the duo were dating. Of course, Aiden had been picking on Julie because he was crushing. Typical boys.

"Aiden, you numpty!" Julie barked. "This isn't the time for tosh!"

Julie's Britishness always loved to emerge when she was upset. Loose translation? Quit talking nonsense.

"Guys, it's- it's fine!" A'isha bit her lip briefly, pausing until they fell silent. "I need some human interaction that doesn't drive me completely mental right now." She peeked at Marik once more, only to glare upon finding a stupid smirk had snaked across his lips. Even his eyes were laughing. Apparently this conversation was hilarious. "But, uh, just a side note. You're on speaker phone and the, um… the call is being monitored so I don't say anything that gives away who has me or where I am."

"Well then," Julie began, sounding as though she was gearing up for a particularly passionate speech. A'isha paled instantly, knowing  _exactly_  what was to come. "Dear Pricks and or Prickettes who have taken my best friend-" Ish cringed, albeit not at all surprised "-you are the sickest of the sick; the lowest of the low; the most despicable excuse for a bloody human being to  _ever_  walk the Earth and you'd best be praying the fuzz find you before I do or I'll paste your stupid face so bloody hard you'll think you're in a Quentin Tarantino movie!"

For the first time since meeting Sir Jerk-A-Lot, A'isha welcomed his amused smirk. It was marginally better than him being peeved, for she might have just taken the wrap for it if he had been.

"Jules, I get that you're pissed, but I'm sorta on a time limit so-"

"Sorry, Ish," Julie murmured, and Ish could just imagine the girl rubbing her temples as she strived to find her composure. "We're all just so unbelievably miffed and I've been freaking like you wouldn't believe and I-"

"You're blabbing, Julie Wulie."

"Shove off, will ya?" the girl teased through the phone. A'isha couldn't help but smile, even despite the circumstances. It was just plain old nice to be talking to her friend in some fleeting form. "Okay. I think I've gotten a grip. We have questions and I know you do too. Shoot."

"How is everyone?"

"Everyone's freaking the fudge out. Dani's been making fire breathing dragons look like puppy dogs."

Ish didn't know whether to smile or frown. One thing was certain: she wasn't surprised. And then she realised her lips had opted for a frown.

"And my family's freaking," she continued, "same with yours, everyone at school, even complete strangers- your Facebook is being bombarded with posts; Mar's too. Even The Tank posted saying she hopes you're okay, and when Amarillo is posting well wishes, you  _know_  shizz just got real a-"

"Dani doesn't think I-"

"Not for a second." He must have told her about the phone call in which Creeper McCreeperson had forced her to lie that she was sleeping with him. Ugh. "Dani heard you say you'd been taken, but the call disconnected before you finished and said  _who_  had actually taken you."

"Unfortunately," she grumbled into the mouth piece, then sighed. "They crushed my phone."

"The bastards."

Ish heard a subtle chuckle from the blond across the way, his hand covering his lips and muffling the sound. She glared at him, only fuelling his amusement and encouraging his grin to grow. Typical.

"How's Mar?"

Ish bit her lip, wondering that very same thing. "I'm not with her right now, but when I last saw her she was… okay."

Her brows knitted together. It felt like she was lying. After all, the last time she'd seen her cousin, the girl had been balling her eyes out following yet another usurp on her mind. Not that she could tell Julie that. That likely fell under Marik's intangible TMI list.

"You don't sound so sure."

"Well it's been two days since I last saw her." She bit her lip, something she seemed in favour of these last – what? – seven minutes. Crap. Ish suddenly felt cheated, wondering where the heck all that time had gone. "But I'm sure she's fine. And I only have three minutes left to talk so-"

"Okay. So is there  _anything_  you can tell me or-"

"No. Sorry." She hated being so abrupt and to the point, but time was running out and she hoped to make every remaining second count.

"Okay. Fire away another question."

"How's Ahad?"

"Doing everything he can to save you."

"And… And Dani?"

"He's… well. You know."

A'isha's lips settled into a firm line, guilt worming its way through her mind once more, along with endless amounts of sickening sadness.

"Super pissed?"

"Yeah..."

Ish heaved a sigh. "I knew he wouldn't handle a call from me well… that he'd be too upset." Not to mention the thought of speaking to her well-beyond-peeved-and-concerned boyfriend in front of Mr High and Mighty was far from appealing. "C-Can you… please not tell him I called?" Ish had a feeling he might just take it to heart that she'd used her call on her bestie rather than him; something Julie no doubt knew too.

"We won't."

"Thanks."

"He, uhh… He just left my house a minute before you called."

Ish was ridiculously torn between relief and regret. Relief that she'd missed him, but regret because she  _missed_  him. She  _wanted_  to talk to him... to tell him she was okay, putting his worries at bay. But she hadn't been able to bring herself to dial his number. Not with Marik around.

"Why was he over?"

"Trying to convince me to go on that trip to Italy. Him and Hunter. But it-" She heard her friend sigh, "-it just doesn't feel right with what's happened to you and Mar and I-"

"You should go."

"But I-"

"Julie," she said slowly, softly. "You deserve it after all this craziness. Please."

"But the flight's tonight!"

A'isha didn't miss Marik straighten in his seat. She knew he was wondering where exactly Jules was going, if she'd be heading to Italy tonight. She caught him mouth something. It only made her squint, her brows knitting together. Then she realised.

_Where?_

He was asking her to check where Julie was going. No doubt he wanted it done subtly. Ugh. The freaking jerk!

"Well," she drawled, hating Marik with every fibre of her being that very second, "I guess you'd better start packing." She paused. "Where are they taking you?"

"No clue."

A'isha didn't even bother to hide her smirk. Particularly when her captor frowned. Served him right.

"Oh?" Ish voiced.

"Well, y'know; it's a part of that birthday surprise." She sighed again. "I'm not meant to know till I get there."

She caught Marik glance at his watch.

Ten seconds left.

"Anyway."

Nine seconds.

She quickened the pace.

"Guys, I have to go but I love you both and I miss you and please enjoy that trip and don't worry about me!"

He smoothly rose to his feet.

Three.

"Love you too! Miss you and-"

_Snap._

In one fluid motion, Marik had simultaneously snapped the flip phone shut and snatched it from her grasp.

The glare she sent him was venomous. Couldn't he have at least let them have a proper goodbye!? This was all his freaking fault in the first place!

"You're  _beyond_  insufferable," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"You're welcome," Marik shot back, surprisingly without a smirk. If anything, he'd fallen back to the same stoic expression he'd worn when she'd dialled her friend. "Now then," he began, stepping over to the exit, "I'll be back this evening. You have fifty Euros for room service and no more." He lugged his backpack off the floor and over one shoulder. "And you are not to leave our room."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she muttered, diverting her glare to the grey carpet beneath her feet.

The only reply she received was the click of the door, shut perhaps a little too harshly. And this time, A'isha couldn't bring herself to rejoice in her solitude.

* * *

It took thirty three minutes for A'isha to pick herself up off the floor in the figurative sense. She'd dragged herself from the couch to set up the next season of  _How I Met Your Mother_ , half wishing for  _Friends_  in its place. At this point, watching something that the jerk enjoyed wasn't exactly appealing. Though, fortunately, she still managed to crack a smile at some points amid her binging.

And speaking of binging, another hour ticked on by before A'isha gathered up enough motivation to order any room service. But when she did, Ish made sure to spend as close to fifty Euros as possible, partly to spite her infuriating captor, but mostly to make sure she got her money's worth. It was the least she deserved given her current, crummy circumstances.

A'isha exhaled slowly, curled up in her bed as she watched one of the last episodes of the season. Somewhere amid her seven-hour-and-counting binge, as she watched the adorable on screen couples and heart-warming displays of friendship, throws of regret had thwacked her hard over the head. She'd felt a hint of home sickness this whole dang week, lingering in the back of her mind amid her stressing over this drama and that. Perhaps a little more than a hint for the first few days that she'd found herself in this mess.

But now, as she stared at the screen through watering eyes, A'isha felt more home sick than ever. She almost wished she hadn't accepted the offer to call someone. It had only made her feel worse. Had thrust to light exactly what – or rather,  _who_  – she was missing. It made her wonder exactly when – if! – she'd see her loved ones again.

She hated him.

So much.

A'isha propped herself up in bed to spare a glance at the clock. 9:47 PM.

Marik still wasn't back.

That was fine by her. Actually, that was more than fine. It was fabulous. The longer she didn't have to tolerate him the better.

Ish inhaled deeply, then exhaled a slow, shaky sigh. She was exhausted. Her eyes ached and stung and welled up all at once. They were heavy. And the TV screen was suddenly painfully bright to look at. Maybe if she closed her eyes for two seconds they'd… stop… hurting. . .

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?"

A'isha jolted where she sat. Then felt herself slipping. A pair of warm hands came to her rescue, one rushing to wrap around her waist as the other urgently gripped her upper arm.

"Geeze, Ish!" a genial voice cried, oodles of concern strewn through it. "It's just me." Her eyes snapped right to find a familiar set of lavender irises. "Hakuna your tatas!"

Instantly, Ish exhaled the breath she'd been holding in the aftermath of her fright. "Gosh, Marik!" she shrieked, tightening her grip on the thick branch on which she sat. Her blue eyes were on the smiling blond beside her. "You startled me!"

"Sorry about that," he murmured meekly, sending a sheepish grin her way as he lightly rubbed his neck.

"It's fine." She smiled to back up her claim. "I mean, how could I possibly stay mad at  _you_?"

Marik's visage grew dramatically grave as he stared straight ahead, eyeing the scores of emerald green leaves draped over the tree, as the azure sky peeked through the cracks. "Many have tried," he murmured, reminding her of a second rate drama film. "None have succeeded."

"And speaking of succeeding," Ish enunciated, peeking over the branch's edge to find his fancy leather shoes laying forgotten at the base of the tree. "You finally conquered the almighty tree! Good for you!"

"Yeah!" And just like that, his expression rivalled that of a child's in all its innocent joy. "Who knew  _bananas_  could make tree climbing so easy?"

"Well didn't I tell ya?"

A light laugh shook his shoulders, before seriousness swept across his face. "Okay, Ish. Back to business." She felt the reassuring warmth of his hand as it settled atop her bare shoulder, and had to show a slight smile. "What vile insult did The Wicked Witch Of The West spew forth this time to give you no choice but to scale this tree?"

"She-" A shaky sob caught the word in her throat, the despicable dribble still fresh in her mind. Ish could still clearly see the way they'd rolled off that monster's tongue. "She called potatoes…  _disgusting_."

Sheer horror swept across the blond boy's face, as though he'd just learnt that his company's aunt had slaughtered half the planet in cold blood.

"She  _what_?!"

"I know," A'isha breathed, hating the tears that clawed at her vision. It took everything in her just to keep them at bay. "I… I couldn't believe it either."

"That's…" Marik paused, still coming to grips with the new found knowledge. "That's just low… even for her."

"And she claimed that celery is better than potatoes!" she screeched, flaying her arms about for emphasis. "Freaking. Celery."

His eyes bulged. "What in Ra's name is  _wrong_  with that woman?"

"I know, right?"

Marik shook his head in total disapproval. "I commend you on tolerating such a tyrant for this long."

"Well," she drawled thoughtfully, "I suppose I've had a lot of practice when it comes to dealing with psychopaths."

"Oh?"

"I mean, that Amarillo girl at school takes loopy to a whole new level."

Marik nodded in agreement. "Quite right. You know, I almost forgot about her."

"How could you possibly forget about such a crazy nutcase?"

"I guess I just try not to think about all the horrible people that exist in this world." Marik fell sombre once more, disheartened by the mere thought of the terrifying world he lived in. "All the murderers… the rapists… the conmen and, Ra forbid, the jaywalkers."

"And the thieves that steal Duel Monsters cards?"

"Don't be silly, Ish," he insisted. "What kind of criminal steals children's trading cards?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right." She then gave her company a once over, finally noticing Marik's chosen attire. She arched a puzzled brow. "By the way, what's with the little red dress?"

"It's liberating."

"Is that why you wear that purple dress you call a cloak?"

"Shh." He held a long, slender finger to his lips. "Don't tell anyone."

"Your secret's safe with me."

A'isha couldn't resist a grin as he slid a dark-skinned arm around her shoulder and shuffled closer. "I knew I could count on you, Ish." She wasn't sure of the exact second her smile had faded. But she knew it had happened at around the same time that the gentle warmth of his fingertips had began to trace soft circles across the bare skin of her shoulder. She bit her lip. Hard.

"What's it like?"

Her brows gathered. "Hm?"

"To kiss someone." She stiffened. "What's it like?"

"I… I don't know." Ish looked right, then immediately wished she hadn't. His amethyst orbs were piercing, any and all innocent warmth suddenly swept from existence, replaced by an all too terrifying ice. She felt herself shrinking under his gaze, like she were sinking into the thick bark beneath her. "I- I mean." She swallowed hard. "It's…  _nice_." She ripped her eyes from his. "It- It's hard to explain!"

A'isha froze when Marik's hand slid under her chin, his touch drawing forth a shiver.

His next words were no more than a husky whisper as his hand, with its delicate grip upon her chin, willed her to meet amethyst orbs. And in that moment, they were all she saw.

"Then show me."

A'isha woke up. Not with a jolt or a gasp, or anything dramatic like that. She simply woke up, and realised she'd been dreaming. Or rather, she'd been having a nightmare. One that made not even an iota of sense. Thank the universe a nightmare was all it was.

She stretched and inhaled a deep, satisfying breath of air. And as the haze of sleep cleared, A'isha wondered what the time was, and if Marik was back. One of those questions was answered a second later.

"Are you aware that you snore?"

Only then did her dream come crashing down on her, as the familiar ice of his voice rung in her ears. She buried her face into the thick, silky blanket to hide her reddening cheeks, and peered left.

Unsurprisingly, he was in that same chair at the dining table, with what looked like a hard-covered notebook set out on the table beside a sturdy beige mug. It was freshly brewed, based on the swirls of steam that danced from the mug, only to be greedily absorbed by the atmosphere.

A faint click woke her up a little more, drawing her attention to his right hand. A ballpoint pen was loosely in his grip. It looked thick and fancy and, of course, was a deep shade of purple with a hint of gold. She sighed, recalling his question.

"I only snore when I'm exhausted," she pointed out, allowing her eyes to slide shut. The light overhead was a little too bright, despite the fact Blondie seemed to have turned it down to the dimmest setting. Had he actually been that thoughtful?

"Hm," she heard him voice, and pried one eye open to peek at the blond. His sights has settled on the notebook. She silently watched as he pressed pen to paper. Each flourish of his hand was swift and fluid as he wrote. Not once did the pen's tip leave the page. "Pray tell, what has you so exhausted," he finally breathed, glancing up from the notebook to send the slightest of smirks her way.

"Funny."

It wasn't. But she was in no mood for arguing. It was far too late for that. Or was it too early?

"What's the time?"

"Four AM," he answered through a languid sigh.

"Have you even slept yet?"

"No."

"You should."

"There is something that requires my attention first." He sounded beyond exhausted.

It was her turn to sigh. "R.H. stuff?"

"You could call it that." She didn't miss the mirth that lined his voice.

"And it can't wait?"

The mirth remained as he asked, "Why do you care?"

"Because I have to deal with your sleep-deprived butt," she grumbled. "You were annoying enough yesterday and that was after a sleep in."

The steady sound of pen gliding over paper was the only reply she received. She wasn't sure of exactly how much time had passed when he finally did say something. All she knew was that she was drifting off once more, and the smooth sound of his voice made her jolt back to consciousness.

"Your cousin is fine, by the way."

She opened her eyes to glare at him, before twisting in the sheets to face the wall to her immediate right. "You really think I'd take your word for it?"

"No," he said tersely. "However, I imagine Odion's holds more credibility in your eyes. I spoke with him this evening and he assured me that your cousin is safe." He snorted. "Apparently she and Jordan thought a little midnight baking was a fine idea." He paused, presumably for dramatic effect. She wasn't looking. "They broke the Ra damn microwave."

"How?"

"Tinfoil."

"Amara, you blonde... Why am I not surprised?"

"That guess about me dying my hair," he drawled lightly. "There's a reason it popped into your head."

"Yeah…" She rubbed her eyes, then settled on leaving them shut again. "Elsie dyes her hair blonde."

"Elsie?"

"Elissa," she yawned. "Jules says Evil Elsie has a nicer ring to it."

For a while, Marik said nothing. She figured he had nothing more to say. He proved her wrong.

"Who's worse?" he basically blurted out.

Puzzled, her brows knitted together. "What?"

Marik was silent, pursing his lips as though mentally scolding himself for the abrupt question. "Who's worse?" he finally repeated, the words barely above a whisper. "Me… Or Elissa…"

A'isha's visage twisted with hate-fuelled fury, her mind hurling two weeks into the past.

* * *

**-flashback start-**

* * *

"A'isha, are you  _sure_  you're fine to help me pack up?" Miss Mutton, her drama teacher of three years and counting, asked for the third time that hour.

The girl in question looked up at the concerned woman, a pretty brunette in her late twenties, and smiled. "Liz, it's really no problem at all," she insisted, talking a little louder than usual, thanks to the heavy rain that battered unceasingly against the roof of the near-empty auditorium. "My uncle finishes work at nine and he's picking me up after," she continued, returning to tossing a few small plastic props into a clear storage tub. "I figure I might as well make myself useful by helping you get outta here faster."

Despite A'isha having her own car, the thought of driving in this heinous weather was unsettling at best, so she'd gotten a lift to today's play practice from Dani. He was decidedly more confident when it came to driving in the pouring rain.

Miss Mutton watched her student for a moment, appearing lost in thought. "Well alright," she finally drawled, heading over to a lone table placed at the centre of the stage. "As long as you have a lift home. I wouldn't want you walking home alone at this time of night. Especially in this downpour."

They both stilled as the battering intensified to raucous pounding, reminding A'isha of some ravenous beast slamming serrated claws into the buildings flimsy rooftop, desperate to reach its prey.

Yep. She was definitely glad to not be behind the steering wheel tonight.

"How's your uncle doing, by the way?" Liz continued as she crouched somewhat to find a comfortable grip on the table.

A'isha straightened, then rushed to her feet upon seeing the woman was struggling a little. "Hold fire!" she called out, jogging across the stage to grab the other end of the table.

"Thanks, Ish," her teacher offered as they lifted the table in sync, and shuffled towards one corner of the stage.

"Don't sweat it," A'isha said, the words slightly strained under the table's weight. It was heavier than it looked. "Ahad's good, by the way." She flexed her fingers after setting down the hefty object, her digits reddening faintly where she'd had a firm grip on the table. "He got a promotion recently."

"Yeah, Kadin told me."

Kadin, her fiancé and an officer in the police force. He was also one of Ahad's closest friends.

"Good for him, I say," Liz enthused, smiling across the table at the younger girl. "He's wanted that detective role for years. Goodness me, it sure sounds like they need someone like him calling the shots too; what with all these silly robberies lately. All this card game nonsense must be driving him mad!" She pulled a face. "There are people getting murdered, raped and who knows what else. And these thieving scum are busy wasting all of the police force's time and resources!"

A'isha pursed her lips, wondering if she could be bothered justifying her uncle's cause. The poor guy was working later and later, even to the point of obsession, over these cases. "I wouldn't exactly call it a waste," she drawled, scouring the stage for any missed props. "Ahad was saying the other night that the Rare Hunters are attacking people – one guy was even hospitalised just recently – simply over their Duel Monsters decks. Apparently rare cards are worth more than a pretty penny."

That reminded her…

A'isha spared a glance at her leather backpack, dumped against a charcoal grey wall near one of the auditorium's exits. Tonight, she'd be seeing her uncle for the first time all week, save for that one time she'd ran into him on her way to the bathroom, the guy looking every bit the part of the generic zombified policeman from the horror movies her and Dani often watched, all geared up in his uniform as he dragged himself upstairs and into his bedroom. That had been in the early hours of Tuesday morning, if she recalled correctly. It was now Saturday night. She really needed to see to it that he finally got the deck that Dani found.

"Really?" Liz asked, slicing through her thoughts. She sounded just as appalled as she looked. "What low-lives make a living by stealing and selling children's trading cards?" She shook her head in obvious disapproval. "I didn't realise it had gotten this bad. I mean, the Rare Hunters have been around for a few years now. Why get worse now?"

"There are rare cards everywhere," A'isha said with a shrug. "They've probably been wreaking havoc in other parts of the world and we just haven't heard about it." She straightened as that last word left her lips, feeling the abrupt vibration of her phone in her left bra cup.

A'isha withdrew the sapphire flip phone and flicked it open. She arched a smooth brow, seeing a text from Ahad.

_'Hey Ish. Just had another assault across town. Victim's deck was stolen. Have to check it out and may take 2-3 hours. Elissa picking you up instead and leaving now, so will be there in about fifteen. Sorry! I'm sure you understand.'_

Ish barely registered the dismayed sigh that slid from her lips. Well, so much for being treated like a human being tonight.

"Is everything okay, Ish?"

She spared a glance Liz's way. "Yeah. It's fine," she drawled, half concentrating on typing up her reply. "Change of plans. Elissa's picking me up in fifteen."

"Fifteen minutes, huh? Well, that works out pretty well," she announced, giving the stage a once over, "because I think we're done here." Liz revealed an enthusiastic grin. "What say you and I stop by the staff room for a quick cup of cocoa before we brave the weather? My thanks for helping me tidy up instead of playing Snake or whatever it is you kids do on your phones these day."

A'isha smiled, grateful to have such an awesome drama teacher. "Yeah! Sounds like a plan!"

One soul-warming cup of cocoa later found A'isha huddled beneath the awning of the school auditorium, having bid Liz farewell despite her teacher's insistence on staying until her ride arrived. The raven haired girl, put off by the idea of being a burden to any extent, had assured her that her aunt wasn't too far off, convincing the reluctant woman to be on her merry way.

And now she regretted it.

A'isha scanned the street beyond the barren parking lot for any sign of Elissa's white sedan, straightening in anticipation with each set of headlights that sliced through the darkness, illuminating the downpour that fell in sheets from the heavens above. Sadly, dismay drove through her along with the icy-cold wind, its every gust like a million razors slicing her bare flesh. She hadn't expected to need an umbrella, what with having a lift lined up to get her there and back. And her tank top, leggings and chucks weren't quite cutting it in the warmth department. Of course, she'd left her jacket at home.

But at least she was dry.

A few street lamps were scattered about the vicinity, barely keeping the daunting darkness at bay. One lamp in particular, directly across the parking lot, kept flashing erratically just to heighten her already-mounting unease. She really needed to have less horror movie marathons with her friends. Next time she'd make them binge watch the entire first season of How I Met Your Mother. Or maybe Friends. Either was far more uplifting and far less terrifying.

As thick droplets slapped the pavement, painting it a darker shade of grey beneath the lamplight, A'isha continued to glance at her phone, then the street across the parking lot, and back again. Occasionally, as she nervously chewed on her bottom lip, her cerulean eyes would also dart around the area. With each passing car, her dismay grew into haunting anxiety as her patience shrivelled into nothing. She couldn't shake the sickening feeling that drilled its way into her core, settling in the pit of her stomach.

Whether her shaking was from the chilling wind or a terrible case of trepidation, A'isha couldn't tell.

The cars were becoming less frequent. She glanced at her phone, making note of the time: 9:32 PM.

An aggravated growl grated her throat. She was near certain that Evil Elsie had never planned on picking her up. Fifteen texts. She'd sent Elissa  _fifteen_  texts. And had tried calling her  _at least_  ten times.

No reply.

Not surprising either.

And Ahad's was going straight to voice mail.

Peachy.

"That's it!" A'isha hissed, resignedly opening her contacts to find her beau's details. She'd hoped to avoid bothering him, seeing as he was having a boy's night with Aiden, but she knew he'd sooner drop everything than let her walk almost forty minutes alone at this time of night, let alone in such horrendous weather.

A'isha clicked the button baring a green icon shaped like a phone and pressed the device to her ear. A few seconds trudged on by before her brows gathered. Where was the dialling sound?

She lowered the phone to waist level to gaze at the screen. It was black.

"No," Ish breathed, worry weaselling its way into her brain as she urgently pressed her thumb against the power button and held it there.

Nothing.

Her face sunk as her alarm soared along with her shaking. "No no no no NO!" she cried, desperately pressing random buttons as her last sliver of hope depleted just like her damn mobile's battery.

"SHIT!"

A'isha barely resisted the urge to slam the device against the nearby drenched pavement as sheer panic took hold.

"Shit shit  _shit_!"

Her mind raced and, after a ten second freak out session, common sense finally caught up with her fretting.

"Okay," Ish firmly said, striving to regain her composure. "What's the next safest way to get home?" She briefly pursed her lips in thought. "The bus. There's a bus stop nearby. Last one's due at nine forty and is probably running late, especially in this weather. If I run, I should make it…  _hopefully_."

Mind made up, Ish quickly scooped up her bag, pausing to shove her phone deep inside it where, hopefully, it wouldn't end up waterlogged. Then she threw the backpack over her shoulders, face twisting in self-pity as she stared out at the parking lot. The mere thought of braving the buckets of rain that battered the earth was cringe-worthy.

"Alright," she tried to psych herself up. "Here goes!"

A'isha charged into the storm, wincing the second icy water slapped against her, rapidly soaking her inadequate attire as the liquid snaked its way through the thin material. It only exacerbated her shaking.

She ran on light feet, lest she slip on the soaked and slippery concrete, and tried her hardest to keep her head down, looking ahead with her eyes alone. Dripping, freezing face? No thanks.

A'isha ignored the pavement, instead opting on a short-cut over grass. She cringed at the muddy ground, but welcomed the second-long shelter a group of trees offered, their thick branches extending like twisted tendrils as sporadic water droplets dripped from them. It was better than nothing.

She was soon dashing along the side-walk, the soles of her shoes slapping against the concrete, occasionally thumping through a puddle with a shrill  _splat_  that sliced through the consistent sound of rain. Ish kept a firm grip on her backpack. It was annoyingly inching from her shoulders with each pace she took, forcing her to readjust it every few steps. It hadn't done that in the past? Apparently every little thing was taking great pleasure in her misfortune tonight. Just typical.

A few minutes later, A'isha skidded to a halt across the street from the bus stop. She glanced both ways, relieved to have done so when the first car she'd seen that minute rolled on past and-

Scratch that.

It sped through a particularly deep puddle and, suddenly, a steady stream of water was lunging at her, clinging to her already soaked clothes. A gasp spiralled from her lips to greet the icy atmosphere.

"I'm going to kill that bitch," she panted, lugging herself across the street to sink into the bus stop seat that, to her immense relief, was under cover.

A'isha was distinctly warmer and thankfully not so out of breath. Between her dancing hobby and semi-weekly jogging sessions with Julie, she liked to consider herself fairly fit. Unfortunately, the warmth didn't last long, thanks to the chilling wind that whipped at the drenched clothing currently clinging to her skin. Ish supposed that wet, tight-fitting clothes were less irking than baggy ones.

Dani was Mr Positive, and all about silver linings. She, on the other hand, usually sucked at finding them. It was a side of herself that she didn't particularly care for. But, sadly, it's hard to change one's ways. A fact she knew all too well, living with three people who could do with some improving, themselves. Especially her despicable aunt and her high-strung cousin.

A'isha shuddered, then glanced at her attire. She leaped to her feet, feeling obliged to ring out her dripping wet clothes as best she could. The thought of soaking the bus seat only made her feel guilty for the next person to potentially occupy it. Maybe she'd stand… but then drip on the floor and potentially cause someone to slip.

Her tank top clung to her body like latex, sucking into every roll, curve and crevice. She gripped the portion of the material that was pasted to her stomach, peeling it away from her goose-flesh to twist oodles of liquid free. Rinse and repeat. Soon she was marginally less wet, but a far cry away from being even remotely dry.

And, of course, the bus was running late.

It must've been verging on ten o'clock when it finally  _did_  arrive, its brakes screeching through the monotonous slapping of rain against the street as the vehicle eased to a halt, along with her panic that she might've just missed it.

"Thank goodness for that," Ish breathed, relief spreading its warmth through her as she stepped onto the bus, the bright red floor smeared with water, dirt and shoe-prints. "Hi," she managed to greet the driver through chattering teeth. "Bolos Avenue p-please." She slid her backpack off her left shoulder to hang it from her right one. "S-Sorry. Just fi-finding my wallet," she stuttered, unable to shake the guilt her disorganisation spewed forth. She was too busy shaking from the ruthless cold.

A'isha bit her quivering lip, knowing she was just making the bus even later. Apparently her brain just wasn't functioning this evening. Ish blamed the cruddy weather paired with the time. She should be in bed right now! Ugh!

The man behind the wheel, a middle aged gent with patches of facial hair, just nodded, not even bothering a smile. She couldn't blame him. Working, not to mention  _driving_ , in this weather must suck.

 _Though not as much as running in it,_ she decided, withdrawing her wallet after a little fishing and flicking it open to find-

Nothing.

And anxiety, paired with piles of despair, rammed into her at full force. She fumbled through every single compartment. Twice.

It was empty.

But that didn't make sense. Once or twice a week, she and Julie would do an hour or two of odd jobs around the house for her friend's mother, Maria, in addition to all the cleaning and Amara-sitting that Ish did at home for free. Gardening and generic housework mostly. A bit of painting lately, because her parents were renovating their family home.

This morning, A'isha had done over an hour's worth of work, earning thirty pounds in the process. So where the heck was it?

And then it hit her.

Amara.

The girl had been nagging Ahad that morning for money to pay for her junk food that night, seeing as she was heading to a girlfriend's for a sleepover. Ahad rarely carried cash and Elissa had been out, so Mar ended up empty handed.

Or so Ish had thought.

"I'm going to kill her too," she whispered, thankfully too quiet for the driver to hear.

The man cleared his throat and shot her a glare. "Do you have any money or not?"

"S-Sorry!" she stuttered, shrinking under his narrowed gaze. "I- I thought I did, but I-"

He flung his index finger toward the door. "Then quit wasting my time," he barked. "I'm already late!"

Ish wished she could smack the rude jerk, but knew that wouldn't work in her favour. "Is there s-some way to- to p-please pay back later o-or something? My ri-ride ho-home bailed and-"

The glaring man propelled his pointer finger to the exit once more. "No money. No ride."

"S-So there's n-no way t-"

"Get. Off. My bus."

A'isha's face sunk, trepidation tearing through any hope she had left for a safe mode of transport home as she stumbled off the bus, rushing over to the bus shelter for cover once more. She spun on her feet just as the bus rolled back into motion, while her features twisted in rage.

"Y-You miserable asshole!" she roared, shaking a trembling fist at the vehicle whilst hoping he'd heard her.

A'isha wrapped her arms around herself, re-evaluating her options like a fleeting list flashing through her mind's eye. Dani was busy. His parents might be home, but they live just as far away from here as she does and in the opposite direction. Julie lived near her, so no point in trying there.

Her frown was beyond deep-set as it dawned on her that no one who could help her – or, rather, no one she felt comfortable asking for help from – lived nearby.

One of her friends, Karissa, lived maybe a thirty minute walk away. Her place was closest, but it would be a detour on the way to her place, and she'd might as well walk those extra ten minutes instead than risk her friend's family not being home. Not to mention she'd feel terrible if she had to wake them up.

A'isha turned to her bag once again, this time for her keys. She kept pepper spray on them, though she wondered how effective it would be in this downpour. If worse came to worst, Ish figured she could use her keys to stab a potential assailant's eye out.

 _I really have been watching too many horror movies,_  she surmised, maintaining a deathly tight grip on her keys. Ish was worried she might just drop them amid her trembling if she held on any looser.

A'isha breathed a shaky sigh, hating the vile dread that she simply couldn't shake as she made haste in the direction of her home, jogging just to warm herself up.

Twenty minutes later, A'isha was jogging through a quiet neighbourhood, as exhaustion hypnotically whispered in her ear, almost willing her to resort to power-walking. She didn't listen. Instead, Ish soldiered on, her eyes darting around the dimly lit street a little too skittishly. She wished a car would drive past, simply for the false sense of security it would bring her.

_But what if the creep is the person in the car?_

A'isha shook her head roughly, fighting to free her fretting mind of the frightening thoughts it couldn't help but conjure up.

She couldn't, for the life of her, banish that sickening feeling. It had burrowed its way into the forefront of her mind, whispering that danger was imminent, filling her with fear-fuelled uncertainty.

Ish's irises darted across the street once more, her grip on the pepper spray tightening. She felt like eyes were on her. She had since leaving the auditorium, the feeling sparking to life as a slight notion in the back of her mind, festering and growing into something more as time ticked on by.

All of sudden, a slap of feet that weren't her own hissed through the night. They sounded close.

Her eyes darted to the direction of the sound.

No one. Just drenched pavement, barely lit by the lamp post twenty feet away.

Another sweep of her surroundings.

Alone.

 _I don't like this,_  she brooded, gripping her keys so tightly her fist shook violently.  _Not one bit._

A'isha swallowed hard, willing her limbs to move faster. She wanted- no,  _needed_  to get home. To get dry. To get warm.

Stupid. She was so, so stupid. Why the hell had she thought this was a good idea? Walking off into the pouring rain late at night! _?_

There must've been another option. She just hadn't thought of it. She hadn't thought  _hard enough_.

Oh, she was so, so, so stupid!

She wanted to cry… wondered if she already was. The battering rain made it near-impossible to tell.

Her limbs didn't ache. She was sure they should be, the muscles manipulated by exertion. No, instead they felt cold and numb and flimsy. Painless. It terrified her. And yet she could feel herself shaking, her every tremble seemed forced, her body betraying her as it shivered her last shreds of energy into the atmosphere. She just wanted to sleep. To slide into bed, safe and warm, and forget.

_Slap!_

Ish sucked in air, pulling a one eighty to find the sound's source.

Every inch of her tensed.

A silhouette stood beneath a lamp post, their body bathed in its artificial glow like some cruel imitation of divine light. A dark cloak was draped from their form like some skinned corpse, drenched and dripping on the pavement. And yet their face was shrouded in shadows, hidden beneath a hood, shielding their visage from the lamp light as it clung to any bit of flesh that it could.

A'isha was petrified.

Her limbs suddenly ached, and she welcomed the feeling, as bursts of adrenaline snaked through every inch of her. She was running. No. She was  _sprinting_. She didn't know when she'd started. Just that she refused to stop. Dread hissed through her in buckets, only heightening as each and every slap of her feet upon the pavement laced with the sound of her pursuer's. Wait- There were several steps. At least three sets.

Oh God. Three ominous figures and they all wanted to hurt her.

She was screaming too. Or rather, she was  _trying_  to. Was the rain that loud or had her voice box just forgotten how to function?

A'isha heaved for fresh air, her lungs tightening with each passing second. She rounded a corner onto an equally quiet street, only to skid to a halt. Another figure. Mere feet away. Cloak hanging from their thin frame like some dead thing. Face hidden beneath a hood.

"Where do you think you're going, girl?"

She blinked, her grip furiously firm on her key chain. Why was she holding it again? She- What- Her mind. It was in disarray.

The figure stepped closer. She gasped. Across the street. She had to get there.

A'isha willed her feet into motion, sure they felt far heavier than they had only moments ago. She was so cold. Soaking wet. Horrible.

She had to get away from the silhouettes.

But she was so tired. So, so tired. Exhausted. Shaking. She had to run… to get away.

She was half way across the street. Something yanked her back.

"I don't think so," they growled, their voice like venom as it drilled its way into her racing mind.

Her back slammed against something hard. The road? She was drenched- but wait. She was already drenched. She felt cold liquid swirling about her. Was this a puddle?

"I think you have something of mine."

Steps. Behind her. She had to get away.

A'isha willed herself to stand, every movement taxing, sucking more and more energy from her quivering body.

A chilling chuckle met her ears. "She's completely out of it, boys." They were close. Far too close.

"N-No!" she cried, not knowing why. She took two steps, but something pulled her back all over again.

A gasp propelled through her lips. She was suddenly nose to nose with the figure. It had a face. Ghostly pale. Stone grey eyes. Hollow cheeks. A putrid grin.

"It's in her bag."

_What is?_

"Are you sure, Michaes?" Another voice. It was deeper.

"'Course I'm sure!"

Her shoulders felt lighter. Her bag. They'd ripped it off.

"My… stuff…" she managed to force through quivering lips.

"It ain't yours, missy," the pale face hissed.

"Got it!" the deep voice called. "C'mon! Let's go! This bitch's made us freeze our balls off long enough!"

The grin the pale face suddenly sent her was wicked. "Maybe she can warm them up for us, eh?"

A'isha sucked in air. Her mind was in pieces, but those words… she'd managed to throw them together. Terror twisted her features. No. This wasn't happening.

"Michaes, let's go before a car comes or something!"

She tried to move. Pale face was holding her down.

"Let me have my God damn fun!" he barked.

He was on top of her.

"The R.H. won't approve of-"

_The R.H.? Wait-_

"Master Marik doesn't have to fucking know!"

Silence. A long one, save for the rain that punched the pavement.

Then.

"You said his frickin' name, you idiot!" the deep voice barked. "She's the new detective's daughter or some shit!"

"She- She's ou-out of it," he was whimpering.

"Guys!" A new voice. "A car's coming! Hurry the hell up!"

"Michaes, get your ass up!" the deep voice yelled.

"B-But she might-"

"There's no time to shut her up, you idiot!" It was the new voice again. "You bes' hope the Master doesn't frickin' find out!"

The weight was gone. He was off of her.

She heard slapping sounds. Foot steps. Running?

A shrill sound roared through the rumbling rain. What was that? A car horn?

"Hey!" Another deep voice. But this one she knew. "Hey, assholes! Get the fuck back here!"

More slapping. Two sets. One was distant. The other was getting loude-

Someone was leaning over her. That face. She recognised it.

"Aiden…?"

"Holy shit! It's Ish!"

"Wh-What?" The new deep voice sounded terrified. More slaps of steps. They sliced through the shrill hiss of the rain.

"It's A'isha!"

The steps stopped. "Holy shit, Ish!" that familiar voice cried. Something warm… against her cheek. "She- She's freezing! We have to get her to the hospital!"

"I'll drive!" the other voice shouted out over the elements.

"Grab her things, Aiden! And blast the heaters!"

Suddenly, she was off the wet ground. In something warm. No. Someone. Their arms. She glimpsed their face amid the darkness.

"Dani…"

They looked down at her, face twisted by trepidation. "Geeze, Ish…"  _Slap slap slap._ Steps. On the road. "Shit, you're shaking…"

All of a sudden, the sickening shadows that slowly gnawed at her vision were swept from existence.

* * *

**-flashback end-**

* * *

Dread sprung forth from beneath her, its eerie skeletal hands sinking into her goose-bump covered flesh as it endeavoured to drag her down into the very depths of her despair.

She was upright in a bed. In the hotel room. She was shaking where she sat under the sheets. Freezing. Her breaths were shallow… choking for air… heart pounding… hands clammy… lips quivering… Sweating. Nausea. Dizziness.

She could hear her heart thumping in her ears. It was that ravenous monster. Back in the auditorium. Its serrated claws battering. Its vile breath hissing death threats.

Thump thump  _thump_!

Was she dying?

She heard a voice. And saw lavender eyes. Her back was instantly against the wall, her nails scraping against its rough surface.

Thump thump thump. That sickening sound.

"You're shaking."

He appeared calm, but she didn't miss the hint of alarm swimming within those lavender depths. In fact, it was all she saw.

Thump thump-

He thought she was crazy. She just knew it. Maybe she was. Maybe he-

"You're having a panic attack," he said in an unusually delicate voice… so gentle… so warm. He reached out for her shoulder, his hand like fire against the bare skin. She stiffened. "You need to relax."

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"I- I don't know." Her mouth was moving, but her mind felt far away. "I- I-"

"What's your favourite episode of How I Met Your Mother?"

"Wh-What?" She blinked frantically. Her mind raced. What a stupid question. Why would- What brought him to-

Soft, rhythmic circles across her shoulder… fingertips grazing her skin and spreading their warmth.

"What's your favourite episode?" he repeated carefully.

"I- I don't kn-"

"A funny scene?"

"An-Anything Barney does."

"Such as?"

"The- The shiny shirt," she stuttered. "A-And Lily says they have the s-same one."

"And then says it was just her shirt reflecting in his?"

"Y-Yeah."

His voice… How was it so warm?

Thump… thump… thump...

"What happens then?"

"He… He says about the fish." She realised her breathing was somewhat steadier. "The shiny objects."

He was smiling. It was small, but it was there. "How there are twenty four similarities between women and fish?"

She swallowed and nodded slowly.

Thump. . . Thump. . . Thump. . .

"That they're… they're both attracted to shiny things," she breathed, wondering when she'd slackened against the wall.

A'isha was staring down the bed sheets. She swallowed, looking up. It was Marik. He was propped at the edge of the bed, his thumb tracing reassuring patterns across her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed.

"G-Get away from me!" Ish barked, wasting no time in helping him do just that as she shoved him chest-first. "I'm fine!" she hissed. "I don't need your help!"

A'isha hated the part of her that knew she was lying.

Marik wore an unreadable expression. He took slow steps back, before smoothly turning on his heel to head into his bedroom, her pointed gaze following him through it all. She heard the zip of a bag. Then rattling, like pills against plastic. She heard him mutter something. Ish thought she caught Odion's name somewhere amongst it.

He returned a moment later, her suspicions confirmed as she noted a white, plastic medicine bottle in his right hand. She watched him step across the room, rummaging through the kitchenette and filling a glass to the brim with clear liquid. As he approached her half a minute later, his sights settled on the spot he'd previously occupied.

"Can I sit?"

Ish pursed her lips, eyeing the plastic bottle in his grasp. Then, eventually, she nodded.

Marik reclaimed his prior spot, the bed springs groaning faintly under the additional weight. She watched him set down the glass on the floor, unwind the bottle, then tip a capsule into his tanned palm. He proceeded to swap the glass on the floor with the bottle, curling the pill in three fingers and holding the glass in that same hand.

"What are they?"

"Sleeping pills."

She tensed. "The bottle's full," she quietly observed, sinking from the wall to slide into the bed sheets, still slightly warm where she'd just laid.

"I don't care for them."

"But you'll give them to me," she pointed out.

"You need them more than I do."

She nervously toyed with the sheet covering her lap. "Don't you need a doctor's prescription for-"

Marik's hand encircled her wrist and, despite the abruptness of the action, his hold was somehow light and gentle. His fingers slid to her own, flexing them for her to set the glass in her grasp. Then he held out the pill in that same hand.

"Drink it," he ordered. "You need the rest."

A'isha stared at her hand. It still trembled. It was barely perceivable, but she could feel it.

She hated feeling like this. So weak and helpless. Pitiful. Frightened. So unlike herself. And in front of  _him_  of all people. She was usually so good at hiding it. Especially from herself. Her current circumstances helped smother the past, too. And yet here she was, that terrifying night returning at full force; fear manipulating her feeble mind, bending her to its merciless whims. So pathetic. So-

Marik cleared his throat, ripping her from her reveries.

Ish gripped the glass hard as she hesitantly picked up the pill from his awaiting palm, shuddering slightly as her cold fingers brushed over his unsettlingly warm skin. She hated the idea of relying on medication to ease her nerves, but she knew Marik was as stubborn as she was exhausted. That was why, after a long moment of reluctance, she threw caution to the wind just long enough to chuck back the pill, downing the whole glass of water in the process.

The bed emitted a slight  _squeak_  as Marik left it, taking the glass and plastic bottle with him. "Now lie down and get some sleep," he commanded, that familiar ice now lining his voice. A'isha complied, albeit a little begrudgingly, sliding into the sheets to bury her face amid their silky texture.

Her eyelids slid shut. The swirl of steady pen strokes were loud and clear. She heard his every sigh. Every sip he took of what must've been his millionth coffee. The occasional growl of a motor beyond the window across the way.

An unknown amount of time trudged by. She'd stopped shaking, her body now slack and still.

The strokes of the pen were quieter, lulling and rhythmic.

And then there was only silence.


	22. Chapter 21: Because Of You

**Chapter Twenty One: Because Of You**

Warmer. Drier. Barely trembling.

Her head felt light, floating through the strange void where dreams and reality converge, as her brain listlessly willed her limbs to move.

Deep, panicked voices. Rain battering against metal. The faint hum of an engine. The heat of the air-con blasting over her dark skin.

Her finger twitched, then her lips and, eventually, her eyelids; they opened heavily. She squinted slightly as shadows scattered to reveal the dated interior of a well-kept station wagon, everything painted grey by night's delicate touch. Lights flashed by beyond the car windows. Her head was propped on someone's shoulder. Their arms were wrapped around her. Something moved up ahead. Windscreen wipers, rhythmically swiping back and forth… back and forth.

It'd been raining. She'd been walking home. A group of thugs had attacked her. They were going to hurt her. And then –

Whoever was holding her stirred a little. "Ish?" they breathed. They. Dani. He'd found her out in the rain. He'd saved her from the thugs. Aiden too. She found herself staring into a pair of sky blue eyes. "Ish! Oh, thank goodness! You're awake!"

The clarity of consciousness continued to slap confusion away, and some sort of groan-sigh hybrid was apparently all she could manage in her groggy state.

"A'isha," Dani drawled, carefully pressing large hands to her cheeks like she'd break under the slightest touch. "How are you feeling? Are you cold? … Uhh … Can you  _speak_?"

A few seconds passed before, finally, clear-headedness caught up with her. "Fine," she quietly said. "I'm fine." She knew it wasn't a particularly lively answer, but it was still an answer nonetheless. Right now, lively was probably the last word she'd use to describe herself anyway.

"Good to hear you're okay, Ish!" another voice called out from up ahead. She wearily faced forward in her seat to find Aiden behind the wheel, his mint green eyes glued to a road still shrouded in shadows, save for the occasional street light that slapped away the ominous darkness and, instead, illuminated the sheets of rain that poured from the sky. "It's lucky your boyfriend eats like an elephant or we wouldn't have been heading to McDonald's! Who would've thought that greasy fast food chain would actually be  _good_ for your health?"

At any other time, A'isha would've laughed… cracked a smile… or at least acknowledged Aiden's attempts at uplifting her. Instead, her eyes sunk to the rather clammy hands curled in her lap; that was when she realised that her clothes were drier and decidedly more Julie-esque than she remembered, aside from her undergarments, which still felt very much soaked.

"Sorry, Ish," Dani murmured, shying away from her sights the second they settled on him. "You were freezing and your clothes weren't doing you any favours. It's lucky that Jules keeps spares in Aiden's car, though I thought you'd find it weird to borrow her underwear so…"

A'isha didn't really get why he was so on edge about changing her clothes. Despite being together for nearly two years, they hadn't gone 'all the way', but he'd certainly seen her in her birthday suit when they'd reached third base.

"I promise I didn't look," Aiden added needlessly. He'd long since earned her trust in the four years that they'd been friends, plus he'd seen her in a bikini and she figured there was hardly a difference; if anything, bikinis were  _more_  revealing – at least in the cleavage department.

A'isha glanced at her pure white shirt, where two painfully prominent circles had soaked through the material around her chest. It didn't help that her bra was black… or that her bun was dripping wet and was currently drenching a good portion of her new shirt.

Releasing a groan of self-pity, Ish almost wished that Dani  _had_  changed her underwear, considering the way they were soaking through her fresh clothes anyway. She squirmed a little where she sat, hating the way Julie's flared jeans clung to her butt, evilly endeavouring to bestow upon her an infuriatingly 'unpullable' wedgie. While her best friend  _did_  like to wear her jeans quite baggy, they were still tight as all hell around her big butt and wide hips, what with Jules being a banana while she was an hourglass. Luckily, her dancing and bi-weekly jogs with Jules generally counteracted the calories that came with her popcorn obsession. If she lost control of her diet and stopped working out altogether, A'isha was sure she'd pile on the weight after just one look at a cheesecake. Preferably a chocolate one.

"Uhh. How long was I out for?"

A while, she figured, if Dani had managed to change her clothes. But shouldn't they have reached her house by now? Thanks to her jogging, she'd been no more than five or ten minutes from her place when they'd found her and the drive from there should've only taken a minute or two.

"You've been out for about ten minutes," Dani answered, then managed to crack a half-hearted smile. "You were sleep-talking for half of it – um, something about potatoes? – and you're a lot warmer now. We figured you're gonna be okay." When he paused to clear his throat, as though preparing himself for the distaste his next words would bring forth, A'isha knew he was about to grind her gears. "But even if you're awake now, a doctor should be the one to give you the all clear, so we're taking you to the – "

"No."

"Wha…  _What_?"

"I said  _no_."

"A'isha," he addressed, sounding like a stern father scolding his disobedient daughter, "this isn't the time to be stubborn."

A'isha shook her head incessantly. "I know you'd never even  _consider_  taking me to a public hospital and I'm  _not_ letting you pay for me to go to a private one." Her features were firm, hardened by stubbornness. "I already said I feel fine! There's absolutely  _no_  point in me going and costing you guys an arm and a leg." She paused, glaring at the universe. "Besides, I don't trust Egypt's health care as far as I can throw it. There's a reason Ahad went to Dubai last year for that hip replacement!"

"A'isha, please –"

"No!" she shrieked, then drew in a stress-sucking sigh. She knew he'd never just take 'no' for an answer, but there was no way on Earth she'd let her friends fork out some obscene amount of money for private health care, especially when they'd just tell her that she needed a good night's rest.

"Please just take me home and… you can… stay over to keep an eye on me. If I'm  _any worse_  by the time Ahad gets home, then he can fill us in on how to use this healthcare plan we have for some clinic across town."

"Why can't we just go there now?"

"I don't even know where it is or if we need some membership number to get treatment or something," she pointed out. "I've only been there a few times, when I was four to treat a broken arm."

For a long moment, Dani simply stared at her, a hint of distaste drilling its way into his otherwise stoic visage. And, eventually, he let out a long sigh of defeat.

"Alright, Ish." He wagged a stern finger her way, wearing a look to match as he continued, "But if you so much as sneeze, I'm taking you to the hospital. Got it?"

"Seriously?"

"Well, no." He revealed a sheepish grin as he rubbed his neck. "But you know what I mean. If I think you're getting worse, we're going whether you like it or not. Even if you're kicking and screaming the whole way."

It was her turn to sigh, a shake of her head accompanying the action.

"Okay," she quietly drawled. "Deal."

And just like that, Aiden pulled a three point turn, retracing their steps – or rather, their wheel rolls.

x

Fifteen minutes later, when Aiden finally dropped them off at the Dahar residence, A'isha took a shower. A long one. Though not because she wanted to. Oh no. A shower had been the last damn thing on her mind when she'd arrived home to find Elissa asleep in bed, safe and warm and dreaming of torturing puppies or something. But she needed some time to cool down. Or, well,  _warm up_.

When A'isha had found Elissa's phone just lying on the kitchen bench, it had taken everything in her to  _not_  lose her cool completely. The last thing she wanted was to fight with Evil Elsie when Dani was over; but, boy, did Elissa make it hard for A'isha to hold her tongue when not a single text or call notification was showing on her phone screen. Of course, the device was locked, but Elissa had clearly opened all of her texts and missed call notifications. She  _knew_  A'isha had been stuck in the rain. She'd just left her there. On purpose. Like the evil witch that she was.

A'isha was sure she knew why. It was only another incentive to avoid confronting Elissa while Dani was over, because he'd surely feel semi-responsible for her misfortune tonight.

After half an hour in the bathroom, A'isha had shrugged into a vibrant orange, oversized shirt and black, baggy pants, wisps of steam whirling around her as she did. For once, she had decided on blow-drying her hair instead of towel-drying it. After the horrible night she'd endured, the thought of being even remotely damp was cringe-worthy.

After her shower, A'isha had ducked into her room to check her phone, which she'd plugged into her charger while praying that it wasn't waterlogged. By some miracle, her cell was intact; though when she'd checked it, Ish had found no texts or missed calls.

Now, A'isha was cross-legged upon the plush carpet of the living room, savouring the soothing warmth of the fireplace. She was embracing her inner caterpillar after wrapping herself up in the thick blanket that Dani had found in a cupboard upstairs.

"A'isha," he spoke up, curled up beside her inside his own blanket. "You haven't said a word since we got here. All you've done since you came downstairs is stare at the fireplace."

Correction. She'd been stewing and the fireplace just  _happened_  to be in her direct line of sight. And what did he expect? For her to be blabbing away like nothing had happened?

After all, tonight hadn't exactly been a walk in the park. No way. It had been a damn run through the watery equivalent of hell. It was a lot to take in, even without taking into account that she had an impending argument with the she-devil upstairs to look forward to; though, really, that was nothing new.

"Why did those creeps attack you?"

A'isha raised a mug of freshly-made cocoa to her lips, brewed by her beau, and drank deeply of it, avoiding the question all the while.

"A'isha." His tone was firm. She could tell his patience was dwindling. Great. "Why did those creeps attack you?"

"Isn't the answer in the question?"

"What?"

"Well, they're  _creeps_. That's why."

A'isha knew her answer was stupid, but there was no way she'd tell him the truth. She'd rummaged through her dripping wet and dirt-smudged bag while in the bathroom and out of Dani's sight. The search had confirmed her suspicions that the Rare Hunters had stolen the deck that Dani had given her… the one he'd found in an alleyway and had passed onto her to leave in the hands of Ahad.

How had the Rare Hunters found out about the deck? Had it been theirs in the first place? Was that why the blasted thing had just been lying in some dark alley? That must have been it. Ugh. Of course!

A'isha had skimmed through the deck, not having even the slightest clue as to how strong the cards may or may not have been. All her skimming session had done was made her realise just how little she knew about the game. Dani and Aiden played it a little, but she found it boring to watch them. She preferred games that were over quickly and didn't require much thinking. Duel Monsters was neither of those things.

There was one suspicion that Ish was near certain of. If the Rare Hunters had stolen the deck, it must have been worth something. No doubt the creeps would be selling that deck on the black market for enormous profits. Not that she was bummed out by the thought of losing something of value; far from it. All she wanted was for the swift wings of justice to swoop down upon those creeps… and her aunt, of course.

A'isha barely spared enough energy for an eye roll.

How a children's card game could bring about so much mayhem was beyond her.

"Ish?" Dani drawled, snapping her out of her stewing.

"Mm?" was all she managed in that moment.

"Those creeps." His voice shook with anger. "Did… Did they touch – "

"No," A'isha said a little too quickly. "They just tried to mug me. You and Aiden showed up before they succeeded."

"You're  _sure_?"

"Yes."

For Dani's sake, she failed to mention how that creep – Michael, Mikey or something – had implied his intentions a little too obviously when he'd talked about making her warm up his –  _Ugh!_

Her blue eyes narrowed to slits, her fingers clamping down on her mug a little too tightly. The mere  _thought_  of that sick creep touching her like that… it made her stomach churn. She could just  _feel_ hot bile bubbling and burning in her throat. It was disgusting enough that he'd pinned her down and straddled her.

Oh, A'isha  _really_  hoped he got his just deserts.

"Why were you even walking home?" Dani asked yet another question. "Wasn't Ahad meant to pick you up? Where is he?"

A'isha stared down her near-empty mug, wishing she could simply stay silent. Unfortunately, she knew he wouldn't take that for an answer. But if she said Ahad was at work, Dani would only go on to ask who was meant to pick her up in her uncle's place… and Dani confronting Elissa was the last thing she needed right now. It would risk the witch revealing what A'isha suspected was her reason for pulling this evil stunt.

"Dani," the frowning girl stated sternly. "Can you please just stop… pouncing on me with all of these questions? I've had a shitty night and I really just..." She breathed out a strained sigh. "I just want to sit in silence."

"Well fuck, Ish," he returned, apparently not liking that answer any more than the silence she'd considered giving him, "I just want to know how you could've possibly been stupid enough to – "

Tonight's events had already eaten away at her rather short fuse, which was probably why she bristled that. "Stupid?!" she barked, suddenly sitting upright as she scowled his way.

"Okay. Bad word choice – "

"Ya think?" Her scowl hardened another notch. "I was in a freaking catch twenty two and I didn't have a damn choice!"

"Well  _why_  were you in a catch twenty two?!"

"Because – " She clamped her mouth shut.

"Because?" he repeated in disbelief, his hands flying through the air to emphasise his frustrations. "Because of  _what_? I'm your boyfriend! Why the hell won't you tell me why you were out there!?"

Pursing her lips, Ish stared down the fireplace a little too intensely.

"Oh? Great. I'm getting the silent treatment now, huh?"

Seriously. He was pulling this crap after the anything but stellar night she'd just had? As if she needed to add 'a fight with my boyfriend' to the list of shoddy things she'd endured tonight.

 _Insensitive jerk,_  she sourly thought, dumping her mug on the floor beside her to resort to an old habit of arm-crossing when irritated, a slight pout pasted on her face.

"Fine," he continued, vexation oozing from the word. "Silent treatment away then!"

Oh, that just shook the already bubbling bottle that was her tolerance right now.

"Okay. What part of 'I've had a shitty night' do you not understand?!"

"The part where it stops you from telling me what put you into the situation that made it shitty!" he shot back, returning her scowl with equal aggression. "If you don't tell me, I'll have to ask Ahad why he wasn't there to pick you up and – "

"For Pete's sake!" A'isha cried, throwing her hands out before her as though begging some greater power to end the stupid argument. Playing the 'I'll bring your uncle into this' card. Nice. Real nice. "I'll tell you this stuff later, but  _right now_  can we please just forget about the shitfest that has been my night?"

Dani stared at her for a moment, no doubt finding the suggestion distasteful at best. But, really, if all he had to deal with was the frustration of having his questions unanswered a little longer, he hardly had something to whine about.

"Alright," he finally said through a sigh.

A painful silence swept across the room as the duo lost themselves in a myriad of thoughts. The flames flickered across their faces, logs of wood cracking at the fire's touch.

Eventually, A'isha remembered her mug, scooping it up off the floor to sip the minimal contents that remained. Her face twisted in distaste upon finding the contents had cooled considerably. How long  _had_  they been ignoring each other for? It felt like an eternity. And it must've been if her drink was tepidly warm, rather than piping hot.

"I've applied for an athletic scholarship."

Only when she tore her eyes from the cup to her company did she realise she'd been staring the object down for who knows how long. The new-found knowledge slowly sunk in and, once it had, she had to wonder why he'd thought to tell her this  _now_  of all times.

 _A bad attempt at getting past our fight,_ she supposed, gnawing on her bottom lip.

"Where?" A'isha asked, hoping she was being paranoid in thinking she didn't sound at all excited for him. Yes, it was an exciting thing. Yes, he'd dreamed of getting an athletic scholarship for years. Yes, he was one step closer to fulfilling that dream. And yes, she was rooting for him. But her mind was still stuck in her shoddy evening. "Here in Alexandria? Or in Cairo?"

"Los Angeles."

Now that was a sucker punch to the gut. A million questions hit her head on.

Was he for real? Had he actually gone and applied for a scholarship without even talking to her first? Did he even  _care_  that they'd been together for almost two years? Was he expecting her to just drop everything to go with him if he got it? Or would he want to try long distance dating? Or even break up all together? And why was he bringing this up  _now_  of all times? To simply be spiteful?

" _Los Angeles?_ "

"Yeah…" He was suddenly fidgeting where he sat. "I – um – have been meaning to tell you, but I… I just didn't know how."

A part of her wanted to scream at him. To bombard him with an endless supply of sour questions. To ask how he could've possibly applied for a scholarship that would send him to a whole other continent without even  _talking_ to her first. However, she was in no mood for that discussion. Given their current circumstances, it would only descend into another disagreement. That was the last thing that either of them needed right now.

"Well," A'isha drawled, never having felt so dismayingly distant from the blond boy beside her, "I'm sure you'll get it." After all, if there was one thing Dani was amazing at, it was sports.

"Yeah... Thanks."

A'isha could tell he'd expected more from her, but if he wanted to discuss it, should he have gone and told her right after a fight? Uhh. Probably not.

Dani exhaled deeply, sliding the blanket from his body to find his feet. "I'm going to use the little boy's room and… um… I might step out onto the porch for a bit if that's alright?"

"Okay."

They both needed a bit of space anyway.

For a while, Dani simply stood there. Just long enough to make her feel awkward – or rather,  _more_ awkward. "Okay," he finally said, and she wondered if he'd been mulling over whether or not to ask why she wasn't bombarding him with questions about his application.

In any case, Dani said nothing more. He only exhaled grimly as he stepped out of the room. Ten seconds ticked on by before the click of the bathroom door broke the awkward silence. Well, silent save for the muffled sound of rain slapping against the earth outside.

A'isha's attention turned back to the fireplace, her expression sour with self-pity, as she stewed over another crappy night brought forth by Elissa. The stupid cow! If she'd actually adopted the role of her caregiver for once and had picked her up like Ahad had asked, none of this would've happened! The assault. Her getting soaked. Fighting with Dani. Hell, she was almost  _raped_! Not to mention the creeps had talked about "shutting her up". If mafia movies had taught her anything, it was that shutting one up was just another expression for "sleeping with the fishes". Or, y'know, being murdered. And if  _that_  had happened, it would've been all thanks to the woman who was undoubtedly stoked to be responsible for dragging her through Hell and back.

A'isha hated that bitch with every fibre of her being.

Take Evil Elsie out of the equation and she was sure her life would be nowhere near as horrible.

An infuriating image of the witch fast asleep in her bed flashed through Ish's mind. Warm. Relaxed. Not a care in the world.

Cerulean eyes narrowed to slits.

"Let's fix that then, shall we?" she hissed, ripping the blanket from her body to leap to her feet.

A sly simper of anticipation snaked across A'isha's lips as she marched into the kitchen. She retrieved a bucket from the cupboard below the sink, dumped it in said sink and flicked up the tap. The sound of water meeting plastic met her ears as she sought out the ice cube tray from the freezer, finding a glorious amount of irony in the fact that Elissa refused to drink lukewarm water, so she always kept the freezer well-stocked with ice.

Perhaps that habit was about to change.

A'isha dumped the ice cubes into the bucket and, once the bucket was three quarters full, she flicked off the tap, only to lean against the bench, her sights firmly set on the water as it greedily absorbed the ice.

A minute later, she paid little mind to the sudden, louder volume of the elements outside, as Dani sought out some fresh air on the porch. A faint click, muffling the storm outside, was enough to piece together that he'd closed the door behind him.

A few minutes passed before she dipped a finger into the water and deemed it to be an acceptable temperature. "I'm sure Elissa would agree," she quietly said, her scheming smile never wavering.

Merrily accepting the consequences of her impending actions, A'isha heaved the bucket out of the sink and, on light and hopefully hushed steps, lugged it up the stairs and into the first room on the left.

. . .

_Swoosh!_

An ear-piercing scream shot through the whole house, introducing endless enjoyment to its instigator.

Ahh… The sweet sound of karma.

A'isha knew she should've been dreading the consequences… the inevitable argument… the emotional and, potentially, physical abuse... the growling from Ahad… the infuriation brought forth by it all.

Seeing Elissa like this was simply priceless: her emerald eyes bulging, mouth agape, the silk of her burgundy red nightgown clinging to her skinny frame like some dead thing, and the hallway light tearing through the doorway to narrow in on her like a spotlight.  _Worth it,_  she triumphantly thought, desperately praying she'd remember this image for years to come.

Any joy that moment had brought was sucked from existence in a matter of seconds, when she fell victim to a set of seething green eyes, framed by white blond, shoulder length hair that irksomely clung to the wicked witch's pale skin.

"You… You fucking stupid bitch!"

In a flash, Elissa ripped off the sheets to storm right up to her, her rage-twisted face suddenly inches away in an attempt at intimidation. She looked ten million times angrier up close… not to mention ten bajillion times crazier.

"How dare you – "

"Oh I'm sorry," A'isha sarcastically sliced through her words, refusing to yield to her aunt's attempt at intimidating her. Instead, she shoved her from her personal bubble. "Are you  _cold_? Are you  _soaked_? Are you – "

"You've drenched my fucking bed!" Elissa screamed, this time shoving her harder. "I'll make sure Ahad grounds you for a whole damn month!" Another shove. "You'll only leave the damn house for school!" Ish's back slammed against the wall at her aunt's hands. "You'll be banned from seeing your stupid friends or- or that absolute nutcase you somehow suckered into being your – "

"You left me to walk home!" A'isha barked, her blue eyes burning as she pushed the woman away once more. "You left me to walk in the fucking rain. In the dark.  _By myself_!"

"Hm." Elissa faked thoughtfulness as her fingers found her chin. "Well maybe you should've thought about that when you and Ahad went behind my back and used that secret bank account for your trip to Catania!"

Of. Freaking. Course.

A'isha  _knew_  that was it. How could someone be so petty!? It wasn't even her money! It was Ahad's, inherited as a result of her parents' untimely passing.

"Oh. Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" Elissa continued through a dry laugh. "Ahad really shouldn't be so stupid as to have bank statements for secret accounts sent to the damn house! Of course I'm going to look!"

"That sure as hell doesn't justify you leaving me out in the pouring rain!"

"So why didn't you call your knight in shining armour for help?" Elissa sneered. "Aww. . . Was he too busy with another bimbo to answer your call? Or did he – "

"He shouldn't have bloody needed to!" Ish hissed, hating the way the evil hag took every opportunity to put her down. "And my phone freaking died, forcing me to walk home thanks to  _some selfish cow_ leaving me stranded late at night! Oh and guess what? I was attacked by a group of creepy lowlifes on the way home and almost got fucking  _raped and murdered_  too, thanks to YOU!"

When Elissa's first response was to scoff, A'isha was only a hair away from punching her. " _Almost_? Well ain't that a shame!"

A'isha saw red. She lunged for Elissa, sending them both tumbling to the floor, her aunt's shrill screams twisting with her own incensed roars. A'isha didn't even know where to begin. Shove her? Punch her? Pull her hair?

She would've settled on all three, had it not been for the strong arms that had suddenly curled around her waist to drag her back.

"L – Let go of me!" A'isha screamed, her limbs flying as she was hauled to her feet. "LET GO OF ME!"

"Holy shit, A'isha!" Dani cried out behind her, only strengthening his hold as he pulled her towards the exit. "Calm the fuck down!"

"LET ME GO!" or some variation of it was all she could seem to scream in that moment.

"Just calm do-"

"You're a  _monster_!" she hissed Elissa's way. "A sick, twisted, fucked up monster and I can't wait for the day that Ahad finally fucking realises it and throws your sorry ass to the curb!"

"Well I can't wait for the fucking day that you finally appreciate everything we've done for you!"

A'isha surprised all three of them when she managed to rip herself free of Dani's vice-like grip. Her venomous gaze bore into her aunt's emerald one. "You've done  _nothing_ but make me your own personal Cinde-freaking-rella!"

"Oh, just get lost!"

A'isha's mouth flew open, preparing another attempt at having the last word. To her dismay, Dani bet her to it.

"Gladly."

Spinning on his heel, the look Dani sent Ish's way was basically a beg for her to follow suit; though, he maintained a firm grip on her upper arm in case she refused. She followed. Barely.

After stomping down the hallway, scowling at everything and nothing, A'isha marched into her room and mindlessly slammed the door behind her – or, rather, she tried to.

Dani had caught it, stealing away the satisfaction that slamming it would've brought forth. He stepped inside, seeming like he was a fraction away from slamming the door himself. Instead, the blond boy managed to keep his cool as he clicked the door shut. His sky blue eyes were set on the soft, beige carpet beneath their feet, his thick, strong fingers still wrapped around the door knob. She was sure they were trembling.

"Define almost raped and murdered…"

In the blink of an eye, A'isha's whole body went rigid. Only one word came to her mind in that moment.

 _Shit_.

"One of the creeps just... implied it," she quietly said, striving to break the details to him gently.

Sky blue eyes narrowed as he twisted to face her, his arms at his sides and fingers curled like two mechanical claws, reminding her of a mighty gorilla. "Did they touch you?" he breathed, so softly she knew that, if he could, he'd be strangling her assailants right then and there.

"They…" She awkwardly cleared her throat, eyes glued to the carpet. "They roughed me up to get a hold of my bag and…" The volume of her voice dropped a notch. "And straddled me. Nothing more."

"Then how did you know their intentions?"

"By the implications they made."

"And why did they want your bag?" he continued, apparently deciding against asking what those implications actually  _were_. Probably for  _her_  sake. "Did they take anything?"

"No," she said softly, glad her eyes were already dead set on the floor. That lie might've been a little less convincing otherwise. "I already said you showed up before they succeeded." She exhaled a lengthy, jaded sigh and, before Dani could think of any more questions, she sought out a way to avoid him doing just that. "Look, Dani," she drawled, rubbing her right eye. "I'm…  _really_ tired after tonight." As if on cue, a yawn escaped her. "And I know you want to know what happened, but… I just want to try to get some sleep and forget about everything that's happened tonight… even if it's just for a while."

Dani pursed his lips, seeming torn over how to respond. Eventually, he settled on a curt nod. "Alright." He tried to force a smile; instead, his handsome features twisted into a not-so-handsome grimace. "Sleeping on tonight's dramas is probably a good idea."

x

An hour later, A'isha wasn't so sure that trying to sleep really  _had_  been a good idea. She'd been stressing over tonight's events from the very second she'd slid into bed, with Dani curling up beside her to nestle his head on her chest. Half a minute later, he'd been sleeping like a log. She, on the other hand, had been participating in an all out staring contest with the ceiling.

It made her rather jealous that Dani could always manage to fall asleep in two seconds flat after being hurled through even the most stressful of situations. If something bothered her, it  _really_ bothered her. She'd simply lie there for hours, stewing over her circumstances amid her desperate desire to simply succumb to sleep's distant calls. And unfortunately, when living under the same roof as Elissa, something was almost always bothering her.

The list of ways Elissa had tortured her throughout her life was endless and somehow still growing. From the burden of babysitting Amara at the last minute when she'd already made plans to see friends, and the guilt of having to bail on them, to the hideously froufrou pink clothes Elissa had forced her to wear throughout her childhood despite how all the kids at school had made fun of her for it. Then there was the ridiculous amount of housework Elissa always made her do, even when the place was spotless, while her perfect angel of a daughter got to go gallivanting off to hang out with her friends. Or there was her meddling with A'isha's attempts at getting a job, before the witch had decided to just flatly refuse her desire to do so. Even the never-ending put downs her aunt would shoot her way when no one else was around were hard to take.

She'd heard the normal old names more times than she could count: fat, ugly, bitch, cow, slut, whore and some more unpleasant words that Ish wouldn't even repeat in her mind. The miserable name-calling was stupid really; as imaginative as it was true, not to mention it was plain old pathetic and petty of a woman in her late thirties; though sometimes Elissa got a smidge more creative, using something along the lines of 'an ungrateful, selfish brat whose parents had the fortune of never dealing with'.

Fury flashed across her face as her eyes narrowed, her brows gathering.  _The sooner I get out of this horrible house the better –_

The far off click of the front door seized A'isha's attention and, when the all too familiar sound of Amara's whining travelled up the stairs and into her room, her sense of sound piqued along with curiosity. Wasn't she meant to be at a sleepover with some friends?

" - so unfair! Mom used to do way worse when she was my age and now you're freaking married to – "

"I said you're grounded and that's final!" Ahad's disgruntled voice tore through his daughter's moaning.

"But what about – "

"SHUT UP AND GO TO YOUR ROOM!" Ahad's words boomed like thunder slicing through the atmosphere, yet somehow Dani continued to embrace his role as a log by not even moving an inch.

A'isha could just picture Amara portraying a constipated toddler near perfectly, her face scrunching up in self-pity as her high-pitched squeal of frustration resonated through the house. "I  _HATE_  YOU!" she cried, no doubt terrified by Ahad's uncharacteristic outburst. He rarely snapped like  _that_ , especially to his darling daughter.

Purposeful stomps echoed as her cousin stormed up the stairs, before the unsurprising, yet still deafening sound of a slam shook the house as Amara sought out her bedroom.

More steps, a little less steady than was usual for her uncle, met A'isha's ears as he scaled the stairs himself. They ceased just outside, at the very top of the stairs, when rushed footfalls shuffled across the plush carpet of the hallway.

"What the hell was that about?" came Elissa's irritable, yet somewhat panicked tone of voice. "I thought Amara was sleeping over at Jasmine's?"

"Well," Ahad began, clearly more than a little riled up after whatever Amara had done, "if you look up 'sleeping over at Jasmine's' in Amara's Ra-damned dictionary apparently all you'll find is 'going to some party full of drugs and alcohol, before prancing off in some geared up boy-racer car with a drunk boy three years your senior behind the fucking wheel, before  _finally_ being found by your father when he's driving back to the station with his colleagues following the investigation of an assault'!"

"Wha…"

"Needless to say I've grounded her from anything with a screen for two weeks! And she can't have anyone over or vice versa!"

There was a brief pause, in which A'isha found herself wishing she could see this little spat playing out with her own eyes, rather than eavesdropping from a bed she couldn't sleep in for the life of her.

"What's with that look?" Ahad continued in disbelief. "You can't possibly think I was too harsh on her after the stunt she's pulled tonight?!"

"She's only fifteen!" Elissa shot back as though that somehow justified her daughter's behaviour. "I was the same, if not worse, at her age and I've turned out just fine!"

"The girl isn't thick!" Ahad barked. "She knows what she did was fucking sneaky and stupid! Why do you think she lied and said she was going to a damn sleepover?!"

"Because she knew you'd never let her go to a party!"

"Don't tell me you  _knew_?"

"That she was going to a  _party,"_  Elissa answered slowly, treading carefully considering her husband's sour mood. "I didn't know there'd be drugs."

"But you knew there'd be  _alcohol_?!"

Silence. A thump broke it. Had Ahad smacked his fist against something? The wall? The stair rail? It certainly sounded like it.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me! Did you  _buy_  it for her?!"

"No, I – " She hesitated. "I just let her have some wine from the cupboard."

"I'm a fucking police detective!" Ahad bellowed, utterly appalled. "The last thing I need is my daughter getting drunk and high with a bunch of drop kick teenagers! Never mind the fact I don't want that for her; how would it look if – "

"Oh don't pull that 'how would it look if the force found out' bull shit with me!" Elissa interrupted with a scoff and, probably, a roll of her eyes too. "You have no legs to stand on yourself!"

A'isha stilled, holding her breath as intrigue swept over her racing mind.  _No legs to stand on?_

"Or need I remind you of – "

"I was young and stupid. That's in the past."

Elissa's reply was faint, no more than a whisper, and too hushed for Ish to hear; though she did hear her uncle's retort.

"You're a miserable fucking cow…"

"Watch it," Elissa warned, a hint of enjoyment suddenly laced through her tone. Her next words were quieter. A'isha focussed hard, only just managing to catch pieces of them. " – hate – have to – pays well – "

"Just go back to bed," Ahad hissed, before his heavy steps trailed back down the stairs.

A moment later, Elissa's light steps, followed by the click of what sounded like her bedroom door, confirmed her aunt had actually listened for once in her life.

Bewilderment battered A'isha's mind, bowling over the fact her cousin had nicked what should've been her bus money to get home to spend on a wild night with some lowlife boy and not on junk food for a sleepover like she'd first thought.

No.

A'isha was too wrapped up in the conversation she'd just overheard. It sounded like Elissa had some sort of dirt on Ahad. And it sound like he wasn't as infatuated with the witch as she'd first thought. Or maybe she was way off and Elissa was just bringing up some old argument or, at the very least, something A'isha didn't know the context of.

A myriad of questions swirled about her brain, breeding and multiplying as she fidgeted beneath her charcoal silk sheets. There was only one thing she knew was certain: she wouldn't be getting a wink of sleep tonight.

x

A'isha stirred.

The TV was still playing the menu screen for the first disc of the second season of "How I Met Your Mother." She saw Marik resting his head against the left end of the couch, nearly snoring. He looked so peaceful. So innocent. So ridiculously unlike himself. It made her groan.

She sluggishly straightened, propping her back against the wall as the thick sheets slid down to her waist. Her blue irises travelled to the elegant curtains, situated opposite and ever-so-slightly to the left of her bed. They were drawn, the burgundy material dyed a lighter shade as the morning sun shone down upon it. It must've been around eight in the morning. One look at the clock would've confirmed or denied that assumption, but she couldn't make out the time on the object from her bed and, quite frankly, she couldn't be bothered leaving it to check. Did it even matter? She had nowhere to be, thanks to the sleeping jerk on the sofa.

She sighed, struggling to slap away thoughts of her dream – well, nightmare really. Of course her brain, the evil thing that it was, had conjured up the rest of that sickening evening after the first part of it had brought about a damn panic attack. Figures.

Her feminine fingers curled into fists, forcing her tanned knuckles to drain of their colour in a matter of seconds. That day had been a perfect example of how seemingly insignificant choices can drastically dictate one's future.

Not wanting to be a burden and thus insisting that her drama teacher needn't wait for Elissa to show up; if she'd let her, Miss Mutton would've offered her a lift home upon suspecting that her ride wasn't going to pull through.

Then there was Amara stealing the money she'd earned that morning for helping out at the Hughes' household… money that, at the time, she hadn't realised was so dang important that it could've avoided her being assaulted. And, typically, her brat of a cousin had lied about attending a harmless sleepover and had instead been going to a drug and booze infested party to bat her lashes at some sleazy eighteen year old guy with a raucous, modified car. If she hadn't gotten herself grounded, Amara would've stayed at a friend's house on Friday night like always, and wouldn't have been around to let Marik into the damn house in the first place!

Of course, there was also Elissa, the evil bitch who'd pathetically left her out in the rain to settle some stupid grudge about money and secrets.

If it wasn't for the choices of others, Ish wouldn't have been assaulted. She wouldn't have learned Marik's name. She wouldn't have fought with Dani that night. She wouldn't have found out about his scholarship in such a horrible way. She wouldn't have kept her mouth shut about it, shutting down any further discussions that might have shed some light on his decision – just because of her desire to leave that night in the past. She wouldn't have allowed herself to worry over Dani's decision… how he hadn't considered her –  _them_  – when making it. Since that night, A'isha had shoved its events to the back of her mind, refusing to dwell on them… knowing they'd only make her feel downright miserable. But now, she couldn't help but realise the rift that night had created between her and Dani.

_No!_

She shook her head incessantly, loathing the idea that a choice Elissa had made had sort of indirectly resulted in souring an aspect of her relationship… or did she simply feel like, if she dug down deep enough, the only person she could blame for that night and its after-effects was herself?

A'isha already knew the answer.

Despite the choices of others, she couldn't ignore the malicious whisper in her ear; it's sickening reminder that, if she'd done something differently, a choice that  _she'd_ made could've avoided the painfully petrifying dramas of that night – like calling Dani from the get go rather than steering clear of bothering him or asking Miss Mutton for a ride instead of not wanting to inconvenience her.

In any case, unbeknownst to all who were involved, their choices had been scrawling out a chapter of A'isha's life that she sure as heck hadn't anticipated: being kidnapped by the damn leader of the Rare Hunters. How had such an incomprehensible chain of events led up to her current, horrifying predicament? How could she possibly be  _that_ unlucky? Sort of a rhetorical question. Usually, she'd surmise that the universe just hated her, but this time, with the weight of that night pressing down on her, she felt like that excuse wasn't enough.

An abrupt snore would've made her jump, had she actually been standing. Instead, she briefly stiffened where she sat, only to show a slight smile, of all things, at the irony brought forth by her captor being the one to steal her thoughts away from that nightmare. For a moment, anyway, considering she  _was_  now smiling over him distracting her from it.

She spared a glance at the table, now empty save for that fancy ballpoint pen and hard-covered notebook he'd been using in the early hours of this morning. What was even important enough to sacrifice sleep over? After all, when she'd awoken to find out it was four in the morning, he'd said something required his attention before he could retire for the night. Err, or would he have been retiring for the morning considering how late – early – it had been?

"Maybe you wouldn't be such a jerk if you actually got some – "

Remembrance plucked the final word from her throat, reminding her that he'd slept in the previous day and had still been a royal pain in the butt all damn day.

"Never mind."

Marik was either a heavy sleeper when he  _did_ manage to savour some, or he was just  _that_ tired. Either way, she was relieved to have no conscious company but her own. And curious as to what he  _had_  been scribbling down in that little notebook of his.

A sly smile sneaked across her lips.  _Well, he's out like a light right now._ She carefully inched out of the sheets, pausing to straighten out the leg of her pants, which had somehow slid up to her knee during her sleep.  _He probably won't know,_ she tried to reason, eyes glued to his lightly snoring self as she tiptoed over to the dining table.

A'isha was so caught up in ensuring his eyes didn't fly open that she almost walked right into the very table she was sneaking over to. Luckily, she glimpsed it from the corner of her eye, gasping slightly as she froze, mimicking a swimmer performing butterfly stroke minus the pool as she flailed her arms in an effort to regain her balance. It took a few seconds, but she succeeded.

 _The last thing I want right now is to give Sir Jerk-A-Lot more ammunition for how I'm apparently uncoordinated for a dancer,_  she sourly stewed, glaring at the mere idea of him doing just that.

"Okay," Ish breathed through a sigh of relief, her cerulean orbs sinking to Marik's notebook. With a scheming simper, she scooped up the object and, cautiously avoiding the flicking sound of paper, she opened it to the first page.

Italian.

Freaking. Italian.

Everything on the page was written in Italian!

"The cunning bastard," she muttered, sending a sour look his way, only to suck in air upon realising how loud she'd just been.

But he didn't stir. Had he not been snoring merely a minute ago, she might've just thought he was dead.

 _I wish,_ A'isha thought for a fleeting moment; then her face sunk as an odd feeling formed in her stomach. Suddenly, she felt sick. And she knew why; that understanding is what left her brows gathering as confusion crept through her mind.

She felt guilty, even sad, for wishing death upon her captor.

A frown fought its way onto her face.

Why should she feel bad? After all he'd done to her?! He was a despicable human being. Arrogant. Selfish. Insensitive. Evil. A waste of space.

Her features softened with her next thought, her lips forming a straight line as she eyed the sleeping blond to her right.

After a week of tolerating all his nonsense, a  _very_ small part of her had to admit that he wasn't as bad as she'd first thought, despite how the rest of her passionately tried to deny that small part any more head-space. Yes, he was arrogant… selfish… insensitive… but was he evil? Maybe not. She wondered what had made him this way. After all, egotistical psychopaths don't usually come from a happy home. So what was his story? And did it have anything to do with the scars on his back? Was he from some crazy cult and those were a part of some creepy ritual of dedication to said cult? Maybe a cult of card game enthusiasts Hell-bent on destroying the world with children's trading cards?

Okay. Maybe she was just being silly now.

But nonetheless, she doubted Marik would ever be vulnerable enough to tell her himself. Odion was probably her best bet, but he appeared to be completely loyal to his boss – and apparently his family member, after Marik hadn't corrected her yesterday during their 'little game' in which she'd said he and Odion were somehow related. Was Marik his nephew? Brother? Cousin? Or a very distant relative? Aside from the colour of their skin, they really looked nothing alike – she wouldn't even get started on how they were anything but alike personality-wise.

As for physical similarities, the two were completely different. Marik was sort of skinny, despite being toned and blessed with admittedly chiselled abs, and he had blond hair and lavender eyes. He was kind of effeminate… pretty… well-groomed and all. Odion, on the other hand, had black hair, olive green eyes and was basically a tank… bulky, tall and physically intimidating, unlike Blondie who could use his demeanour to strike fear in others and his looks to deceive them, along with his infuriatingly good acting skills.

Come to think of it, they both had those odd carvings: Odion on his face; Marik on his back. Could that mean something?

The spitting sound of a shoddy old car outside ripped her from her ruminations. A'isha blinked twice, wondering how long she'd been standing there with a stupid look on her face. She peered at the blond, noting that he was still somehow asleep. Jeez, and she thought Dani slept like a log. Ish supposed Marik had a lot of sleep to catch up on, having admitted to being an insomniac during yesterday's guessing game too.

A'isha turned back to the notebook and, as she quietly skimmed through the pages, she couldn't help but hate the language that was neatly transcribed upon each and every pa- She stilled, finally encountering a page in a language she understood: English.

_'Go check my closet.'_

A'isha hardly resisted the urge to snort. "Not even a please," she muttered, rolling her eyes over him knowing she'd be nosey enough to pry through his book. Typical.

Then she spotted something at the bottom right corner of the page.

_'P.T.O.'_

She arched a brow, turning the page.

_'Go check my closet PLEASE. ;)'_

Taken by surprise, A'isha jerked her head backwards as she eyed his script in total disbelief.

Seriously. He'd foreseen her bitter comment about him not even saying please. Ish couldn't decide which bit annoyed her the most: his sassy, capitalised 'please' or the smart ass winky face he'd had the gall to include. Her sights shifted to the irritating boy and she narrowly suppressed the urge to hurl his little creep notebook at him, perhaps even stealing him away from a particularly pleasant dream.

Instead, curiosity got the best of A'isha, willing her to spin on her heel, march into his room and fling open the closet.

She forgot all prior attempts to avoid waking her tormentor as she squawked out, "A freaking bikini!" The colour matched her eyes near perfectly, which only infuriated her further. She just  _knew_  he'd gotten a dark blue bikini on purpose to get back at her for holding that purple bra to his chest back in Marina.  _Why in the name of all things merciful would I need something like this?_ She gritted her teeth as she stared katanas at the two piece.  _And how could he possibly expect me to wear it in his presence? The freaking perv!_

A minute amount of relief washed over her as she noticed a black wetsuit too. She refused to give him any amount of credit for it.

"Why am I not surprised?"

A'isha froze, irises snapping right to find Marik leaning against the door frame, an annoyingly nonchalant air about him. Naturally, he was wearing his signature smirk.

"On the topic of surprises," she began, scowling at him, then at the swimwear hanging in his closet, "do ya wanna fill me in on what the heck this stuff is for?!"

"Let's just say you'll need to clear your  _very_ busy schedule today."

After her strange, even positive, thoughts of him this morning, A'isha welcomed the familiar feeling of wanting to strangle him. "But that perfect wall to continuously bang my head against won't find itself," she returned the sarcasm.

"Well," he began, leaving the doorway to close the distance between them. "I'm afraid that perfect wall will have to wait." When he stopped, but continued to stare at her, the mock glee in his eyes filled her with unease. "Our ruse must be perfect, my dear fiancée, so I have arranged a trial date."

A'isha's stomach sunk at those words. "You're kidding, right?"

Marik chuckled. "Why, I think it'll help ensure that we are on the same page as far as what kind of relationship we plan on having." His eyes narrowed, though the glee within them remained as he leaned well within her personal bubble; she was sure he hadn't done so in days, and it reminded her of exactly how much she hated it. A lot. "And wouldn't it just be wonderful to get to know each other on a more… intimate level?"

The nervousness brought forth by those words willed her to take two steps back. "I- Intimate level? What the hell do you mean by that?"

As a tanned hand slid under his chin, Marik's visage contorted into a look of mock thought. "Hmm. Let's just say that couples always have a certain chemistry." She bristled at that last word, though he continued to speak the second she opened her mouth. "And it isn't difficult to identify whether a couple does or doesn't have that, shall we say, spark."

"Well then," A'isha enunciated, her hands finding her hips out of habit, "I guess you're kinda screwed because we don't even have the flint for a- a freaking  _fizzle_  of a flame!"

"Not even a fizzle?" Marik pouted, prompting an infamous eye roll from his company. "Why ever not, Dear A'isha?"

Her left hand flew to her lips, while her right remained on her hip. "Hmm. I wonder. Maybe because I have a  _boyfriend_  and you  _kidnapped_  me and, let's not forget, you're the biggest, most infuriating, unbelievably self-centred psychopath to  _ever_  walk the planet!"

Apparently this whole situation was hilarious, if the enormous grin he now wore was any indication. "And this is exactly why a trial date is necessary."

"Why can't I just play the kind of fiancée that constantly wants to shoot herself in the face because her groom-to-be is such an inconceivable asshole?"

In one second flat, he was well within her personal space all over again. "Come on, Ish," he whispered, his grin dying down to a wry smile. "Why not embrace the opportunity to prove that you possess one tactful bone in your body by making use of your supposedly decent acting skills?"

"I don't need to prove myself to you," she shot back, her unyielding eyes drilling into his laughing ones.

"But you do need to prove yourself to those that we'll be dining with." His lavender orbs narrowed. "Or I may just have to revoke my end of the bargain, locking you and little Amara in that box of a room once more."

A'isha resisted the urge to scowl just long enough to send a sweet smile his way. "Does this mean you'll actually treat me like a human being today?" she gushed with false enthusiasm.

A second later, she was wincing at the warmth of his fingers against her cheek. The mischievous glint in his eyes only served to nerve her further. "I'll treat you like a human being that has miraculously earned my affections."

He proceeded to seek out a strand of her ebony hair, gently twisting it around his index finger; but the gesture didn't last long, for she ripped his hand away a moment later. "That's the last thing I want from YOU!" she spat, a scowl weighing down her countenance as she marched around him, beelining for the door to the living area, though not before shouting out, "And I'd sooner swim back to Egypt than tolerate your creepy hair fetish for some stupid act!"

"Don't be like that, Ish!"

A'isha halted in sheer disbelief. His tone was unbelievably warm and brimming with anguish. She pulled a one eighty, sending a threatening finger his way. "Don't you  _dare_!"

In an instant, he looked lost. "Dare what?" he asked, his blond brows contorting in confusion.

"Don't you dare do  _that_!" A'isha barked, propelling her index finger forward with a little more urgency. "Your- Your stupid angelic act!"

He took slow steps towards her, each one raising her stress levels another notch. "Ish," he gently drawled, delicately settling his hands upon her bare shoulders, his soft thumbs tracing light circles across her smooth skin. "I know you're on edge after that horrible panic attack last night, but I really hate seeing you like this."

Oh, he was good. Painfully good. Ludicrously good. And, boy, she wanted to punch him. So much.

Instead, A'isha gripped his wrists tightly and flung his hands from her shoulders, ignoring the lingering warmth his touch had brought. "You just hate seeing me like this because you're not solely responsible for it!" she snapped, then rushed into the living room before he could open his big mouth again.

Sadly, but unsurprisingly, Marik followed her. "Don't be silly, Ish! I just want to cheer you up," he insisted, embracing the role of the concerned fiancé far too easily. She ignored him, fishing through her suitcase for her only clean set of public-worthy clothes, a pair of purple denim shorts and a simple, black tank top.

"A'isha?"

More ignoring.

"Ish?"

Even more ignor –

A'isha stiffened as a hand lightly gripped her shoulder. He'd crouched down beside her, worry filling his features. "Please," he pleaded and-

What the shit? Was he glassy eyed? No. He- He could will himself to fake-cry. Seriously?!

"I hate seeing you so upset." His voice cracked. "Please just let me cheer you up." A seemingly innocent, almost child-like smile brightened up his tanned visage. "I've planned such an awesome day! I just  _know_ you're gonna  _love_  it!"

"Stop it!" she hissed, shoving him away to race for the bathroom door. To her relief, she managed to slam and lock it behind her in three seconds flat, and even glimpsed the amusing sight of Marik having tottered from his crouched position to fall flat on his butt thanks to her. Glorious.

"While you're in there," Marik called, his putridly sweet voice muffled by the door, "check out the first drawer to the right of the sink."

A'isha grimaced, mulling over whether or not to bother with his stupid little game. Unfortunately, she hated surprises half as much as she hated Blondie, and not knowing would irritate her to no end. That was probably why she was sliding the drawer open in a matter of seconds.

Any joy the sight of him butt-planting the floor had brought her was stifled the second she glimpsed that silky, fiery orange shirt he'd bought her back in Marina. Typical. So darn typical. Of course he wanted her to wear it during their trial date.

"What about the swimwear?" she shouted, peering at the closed door to her right.

She heard an innocent laugh and rolled her eyes. "We won't be in the water all day, my silly Ishy Wishy!"

"Don't call me that."

"But you're just so cute!"

"Hmm. Does that mean I can start calling you Mary Moo?" she countered, a sly smile spreading across her lips. "Because you look like a woman and act like a cow?"

"Aww. Aren't we just adorable? Nicknaming each other?" he cooed, bringing her no more than a hair away from slamming her head against the nearest surface she could find. The spacious, marble bench before her would probably suffice. "Not that we don't already have some utterly precious nicknames for each other. Isn't that right, Dear Little Ish?"

"God, you're so annoying."

"Correction," he merrily stated. "God, you're so annoying,  _Sir Jerk-A-Lot_." He paused, awaiting a snarky comment from his captive that never came. She was too busy trying to give him the silent treatment. "And speaking of knights in shining armour," he finally said, "I think you'll dub me as such after seeing my next surprise. You might even like it more than that shirt. It's in the cupboard to the left of the sink."

A'isha groaned, taking three steps to said cupboard and sourly swinging it open to find –

"What the…"

A baby blue portable radio had been placed within the cupboard, with a few CDs propped up against it.

Bemused, A'isha leaned over to lug the items from their resting place, setting the radio atop the bench before skimming through the CDs to find Kelly Clarkson's "Greatest Hits – Chapter One", Adam Lambert's "Trespassing" and "For Your Entertainment" and Adele's "21".

A'isha hated to admit it, but Marik actually hadn't been lying. She  _did_ like this surprise, not that she'd ever admit to it or, God forbid, thank him for it.

"How did you know I – "

"The day we met, you listened to Adam Lambert while driving me home." Well, that was half true; though really she'd been driving him and Amara to the scene of his kidnapping crime. "And I noticed a few of Kelly Clarkson's CDs tucked away in a compartment opposite the passenger seat."

"And Adele?"

"I bought her CD based on a hunch." Another warm laugh. "I figure vocals like hers would be particularly appreciated by another singer. After all, Kelly Clarkson and Adam Lambert both share that quality. Also, Adele  _is_ all the rage this year."

"Whatever."

Ish really couldn't be bothered with his fake bull crap. Not to mention a part of her just wanted him to leave her alone, so she could jam away to some of her favourite music.

"Anyway, I'm going to duck into my own shower." His voice grew more distant with every word, while his every steady step was more inaudible than the last. "Let me know when you're showered and in the shirt I got you! I can't wait to see how stunning it looks on my little Ishy Wishy!"

"Just buzz off, Mary Moo," she muttered too quietly for him to catch, as she decided on prepping the radio for some Kelly Clarkson. How fitting that she could now drown out Mister Fake and Infuriating with the very gift he'd gotten her as a part of his creepy efforts to fake-woo her. At least, she sure hoped they were fake.

Aaand that had just reminded her of the day that Marik had in store for her.

A groan hissed up her throat as she planted a finger on the on switch of the radio perhaps a little too roughly.

Marik's nice guy act was already driving her mad after ten measly minutes. So how would she possibly withstand a whole day of it?


	23. Chapter 22: The Trial Date Pt I

**Chapter Twenty Two: The Trial Date Pt I**

Wisps of steam drew pictures on any surface they could find, from the spotless shower glass to the elegant mirror that covered the crème and umber tiles across the room.

A'isha exhaled slowly. She was savouring solitude for as long as was absolutely possible. God knows, she'd still be wishing for more from the second that damn trial date truly commenced. Not that the desire for solitude was new to her. That was all she'd wanted all week, all she ever wanted at home, all she never got.

Kelly Clarkson's strong vocals poured from the speakers of Marik's startlingly pleasant surprise, muffling the mundane sound of water slapping against tile. The vocalist in her couldn't help but sing along, but she made sure to do it quietly in case Marik heard. Yes, he was showering in his ensuite – gross! – but the mere thought of him hearing her belt out "Behind These Hazel Eyes" was awkward enough in itself. No way would she risk him hearing her.

The upbeat tune was soon extinguished, along with her minute amount of content, as "Because Of You" floated through the atmosphere instead. A'isha had a love-hate relationship with the song. She loved the undeniably beautiful vocals and oh-so-moving lyrics, but hated just how deeply the melancholy lyrics resonated with her. In a nut shell, it was her relationship with Elissa – or more accurately, their lack of one.

A'isha knew that, as a child, Elissa's father had abused her and, to a lesser extent, her younger sister. They'd lived in Paris, where her mother had worked three jobs, while her father had been the very definition of a drop kick. He'd been a drunken mess, up in the clouds more often than not, in and out of prison, gambling away almost every last cent that her mother actually managed to make. One day, Elissa had arrived home from school to discover her father's slightly pale corpse, bile still lingering in his throat and wet on his cracked lips. A heroin overdose. The blow had only been worsened by the horrendous debt he'd left in his wake. After that, Ish knew very little of her aunt's childhood, other than the fact the witch's mother had somehow scored a well-paying job in England and, when Elissa was a teenager, she'd left her mother and sister behind for a life in Egypt, where she'd somehow stolen Ahad's heart and suckered his wealthy, well-respected family into providing for her.

As she shut off the shower, A'isha sighed long and loud. She reached for the blindingly white towel she'd draped over the glass door, wrapped it around herself, and was soon ducking out of the shower. Sweeping stray droplets from her caramel skin, thoughts continued to swirl about her brain like the misty aftermath of her shower swirled around her.

Usually, a lengthy shower would strip away a good chunk of her worries along with her garments. Today, however, seemed to be a day for mulling over things she'd much rather forget… like Evil Elsie.

Could her brain not go  _one_  day without throwing a curve ball her way? Especially after the utterly horrible month she'd endured. First, there'd been the terrifying night that had rolled the wheels of fate into motion, thrusting her into the infuriating clutches of her captor. Then, on that very same night, the new-found knowledge that Dani had applied for a scholarship in the United States without so much as a warning. And  _now_ , she had to deal with worrying for Amara's safety  _and_ her own, not to mention their  _freedom_.

As if to heighten the mounting heap that was her apprehension, A'isha reminded herself that, if she slipped up during their act tomorrow, she wouldn't just be risking the wrath of her captor. Oh, far from it. She'd also be risking the wrath of those that they were deceiving, which was decidedly more terrifying than facing her captor. By this point, she liked to think that she  _sort of_  knew what to expect from Marik. Those that they would be dining with were another story. A'isha highly doubted they'd fall under the category of 'upstanding citizens'. Their anonymous company would be dining with the leader of a massive criminal organisation! That was pretty much a  _given_! So would they even think twice about harming her? Murdering her? Maybe even going after her loved ones?

A'isha grimaced, twirling her towel around her dripping, raven hair. She tossed on her undergarments, then wriggled into her plum purple denim shorts. Naturally, her mood was further soured as she reluctantly slipped on the vibrantly orange top her  _dear fiancé_  had so kindly bought for her last weekend. The silky material hung loosely around her torso, the ends of the sleeves slightly skimming across her elbows, the buttons and single pocket along the front adding aesthetic. She examined herself in the mirror, twisting and turning, observing the way it looked from various angles. It was the first time she'd tried it on and, unfortunately, it was even prettier off the coat hanger. She thought that in the most modest way possible.

Thanks to Elissa, she loathed having no say in her outfits. Of course, Sir Jerk-A-Lot would beg to differ, what with that stupid line he loved to use about always having a choice. The saying made her scoff. Some choice he was giving her. Wearing another shirt would only encourage him to pester her endlessly – or rather, give him more ammunition to work with- he seemed to thrive off her misery regardless.

A look of distaste revealed itself upon her drained face. In a matter of seconds, her features had twisted into a terribly unflattering attempt to stifle tears. She felt pitiful. Powerless. Laughable. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Every bit the bundle of nerves… like a snow globe of stress, the events of this month serving to shake her to the brink of insanity. She was exhausted…  _so_ exhausted!

And now here she was- prepping for a stupid trial date with the jerk that had kidnapped her. It didn't help that she couldn't shake the sickening feeling that today would be the day she'd finally crack. It didn't help that those unwanted memories resurfaced. It didn't help that she knew whatever façade of bravery she had was starting to fall.

One thing was terrifyingly certain. There was only so much she could take and she knew it. Especially on the eve of her most and least favourite day of all.

* * *

The first thing he saw was the admittedly flattering top he'd bought for her. The second was the gloomy expression she struggled to conceal behind her towel-dried hair, some trashy magazine in hand as she lounged on her single bed. The girl was tense. She definitely knew he was there. And  _he_  definitely knew his presence wasn't the root cause for what was bothering her. Something to do with Elissa, he suspected. Particularly as her recent panic attack had seemingly stemmed from him mentioning her aunt. He knew she wasn't okay. What he didn't know was  _why_. He merely had conjecture and uncharacteristically, this time that didn't bother him in the slightest- didn't ignite the urge to pry.

His lavender gaze was set on her. A'isha was slumped against the wall, putting as much distance between herself and the doorway in which he stood. Marik propped a shoulder against that very door frame as he watched her focus on something in the magazine with only her eyes. There was no leaning into the page to attempt to better see or to reread a bit more closely. There was no gripping the volume that tends to happen when reading something that's either emotionally charged or so blatantly wrong it's near laughable. The magazine was merely a distraction from the inevitably distraught discomfort that was pending. After a third glance over her, A'isha finally wrapped a few strands of her hair around her pointer finger and tugged somewhat sharply as a first non-verbal sign that wasn't belligerent agitation but that of a nerve-wracking nature.

His amethyst eyes glazed over as he silently ticked off his mental checklist.

Alright.

Morning coffee?

Check.

Get presentable?

Check.

Call for a taxi to arrive in three quarters of an hour?

Check.

Pack all trial date gear?

Aside from the portable radio and related CDs, that was a check.

Ensure his dear fiancée is prepared to check-out in half an hour?

Soon to be in progress.

In the thirty seconds that he'd been standing there—or perhaps it had actually been a minute; he wasn't keeping time on every action after all—Ish somehow hadn't uttered a word. Not even a demand for him to stop staring at her. He may have been eyeing her as an afterthought rather than to unsettle her, but to A'isha there was no difference. He was well aware of how uneasy he could —and  _did_ —make her.

He watched her for a few seconds longer. "The fiery hue of that top hardly suits you today." Marik made sure to take care in the delivery of his statement. Inquisitively, rather than insincerely. The latter would only result in A'isha closing off from him completely. The former, on the other hand, may bear fruit, however small, on what was really bothering her, and whether his conjecture was correct.

A'isha said nothing. Not even a scoff or some other amusing attempt at expressing her apparent abhorrence for him. It seemed that whatever was troubling her had gone so far as to strip her of that stubborn streak that always made things so interesting. What a shame… but then again, he couldn't deny the curiosity that gave rise to. All week, she'd been nothing but headstrong around him. So what had finally thrust her past that point of caring about her pride? What had finally quashed that admirably strong will of hers? What had stolen her fire? He absolutely knew he wasn't the sole cause for its absence.

He exhaled, settling on the assumption that it was a combination of things. After all, everyone had their breaking point. Perhaps she was near the peak of hers. At that, a frown tugged at his lips. Any other time, he'd revel in reaching that precipice, in testing her will.

Now, however, he was second guessing himself. She needed to be emotionally sound for their ruse. And if A'isha failed to communicate with him on some level today, they'd fail to find any common ground from which to spark a faux flame between them.

Of course, he could simply use the Millennium Rod to discover that which was troubling her, to find a fix for it. But really, where was the fun in that? Unravelling the inner workings of her mind the good old-fashioned way was far more rewarding—and feeding her fear would serve nothing to his advantage. She feared him enough already. Fuelling it by invading her mind would only fizzle the flame that was required for their façade to succeed.

Only when his frown returned did Marik realise it had even left in the first place.

A minuscule part of him whispered that the ruse wasn't the only reason he'd spent a fair portion of his precious time arranging their date. It whispered silly things. That he wanted to know what it was like, going on a date. Marik ardently ignored that part. Obtaining a girlfriend wasn't even on his list of priorities and certainly wouldn't be creeping onto said list in the foreseeable future.

Okay. Enough of that.

Cheer A'isha up today?

Also soon to be in progress, if not admittedly unorthodox for him. He reminded himself that a kidnapper taking their kidnappee out on a date, albeit insincere, wasn't exactly orthodox either.

Exhaling slowly, Marik pushed off the door frame and stepped over to the kitchenette. Ish kept her head down. Not even a glance in his general direction. Perhaps she was seeing how long the silent treatment would work on him. She should know by now that such attempts were futile. Marik smirked, flicking on the electric jug, and spared a glance her way as he retrieved a white mug from a high cupboard. "Can I interest you in a mocha?" He was careful to keep his voice level.

"I'm fine." The look she sent him almost passed for indifference, but he caught the hint of sorrow that writhed just below the surface.

 _No, you're not._  For once, Marik's filter made an appearance and he kept the jab to himself.

All was silent for a minute, save for the crumpling of paper as Marik emptied two sachets of ground coffee into his mug. After doing so, he spun on his heel to prop his hands against the edge of the bench, casually leaning against it as he looked her way.

"In that case, perhaps you could spend the next thirty minutes tidying up your suitcase, whilst ensuring that you have everything you need for the day." He barely resisted the urge to describe her suitcase as a 'haphazard heap'. Doing so would do him no favours.

A'isha gave him a pointed look. "Why…?"

An abrupt click announced that the water had boiled. Marik wasted no time in pushing off the bench, turning half a circle and reaching for the jug. "We're checking out today and you won't have access to your suitcase until late this afternoon." He answered her next questions before they were given voice. "No, my launch hasn't arrived ahead of schedule. And no, I won't divulge tonight's accommodation." He flashed a ghost of a smile, retrieving a spoon from a nearby drawer to stir the contents of the mug. "It's a surprise."

"I hate surprises," she muttered, apparently regaining  _some_  spine.

"Patience is a virtue, A'isha."

"Patience is a pain in the ass."

Marik drew the mug of freshly brewed coffee to his lips, hoping it hid his ever-stretching smile. He'd used her name. No nickname. No extension. Just A'isha. He recalled the shock that had crossed her countenance when he'd done so in the past, and observed her lack of that emotion right now. He knew that, for the most part, she was a fairly perceptive individual—and yet she hadn't even registered his use of her name alone.

By Ra, she really did need some uplifting.

* * *

Forty five minutes later, A'isha was staring at anything but Marik. Him and his pensive expression. Out the taxi window was working well enough –

Scratch that.

He was watching her reflection through the glass. And now, as she wordlessly rolled down the window, he was amused and pulling some weird snort-eye roll combo. She almost welcomed the irritation, the  _hostility_ , that being the source of his amusement thrust forth. It sure trumped the doom and gloom that had ruthlessly torn her brain apart all morning.

A'isha's mind wandered back to her packing that morning. She hadn't missed his somewhat baffled gaze as she'd silently gathered her things, him sipping his coffee from the side lines—also known as the dining table of their now-former hotel room.

It had surprised her that Marik paid for their entire stay without hesitation, rather than relying on the Millennium Rod to erase the bill from existence. In hindsight, however, she supposed he was making the mula faster than he was spending it, and using the rod to steal all the time would risk concern from the authorities. Resorting to his magic stick for monetary matters was likely a last resort. After all, he had millions of dollars. Why not use it?

A pang of unease clawed at her being. After being alone with Marik these past few days, it seemed like she'd forgotten exactly what he was capable of—or rather, that she didn't really  _know_.

And yet here she was, going on a trial date with The R.H.

What if he tried something funny? She could so see him abusing this stupid date. Hell, A'isha could  _already_  hear him blabbing out evil demands.

" _Oh, stroking my ego in every way possible is a must for a girl unfortunate enough to be acting as my poor fiancée… Oh, making out in our stupid and highly inappropriate swimwear is essential in finding our spark… Oh, sleeping in the same bed is a necessary step in fully embracing our roles."_

A'isha's guard slipped, allowing a groan to pass her lips.

_Shoot me now._

Only after groaning did A'isha realise she'd lowered her wall of indifference enough to give her company a sneak peek of her mind. Not that her mind wasn't readily available to him already.

Her unease heightened.

As if her mood couldn't get any worse.

Oh wait.

There was also the fact that Marik had randomly dropped the Namu act. He was even going so far as to be tolerable. Mostly. One glimpse of that arrogant smirk still left her wanting to punch him square in the face. Although, by some miracle, he  _did_  seem to be keeping the arrogance to a minimum since their second encounter today. Or rather, he'd looked to be too lost in thought to focus on being arrogant. Was he wondering why she was being so compliant, rather than kicking and screaming over his ridiculous trial date?

Probably.

A'isha abandoned those thoughts as they turned down a one way street, the middle-aged male driver weaving the vehicle through a myriad of back roads she only sort of recognised. She would've asked where they were going, had Marik not gone out of his way to show the moustached man his little creep notebook the moment they'd entered the car. Apparently that was all their driver had needed to know their destination.

Boy, she really hated surprises. Especially Creeper McCreeperson's. All she had to go off of was the swimwear he'd presented her with. They were probably heading for the ocean. Water sports maybe?

Actually…

For two reasons, she figured the swimwear wasn't needed just yet. The first reason? He'd brought that baby blue radio with him. The second? He hadn't instructed her to wear the swimming gear. They were both clad in normal attire instead. Well,  _she_ was clad in normal attire. Marik's attire, while normal by anyone else's standards, was decidedly abnormal in A'isha's opinion. She glanced his way, taking in his far too casual clothing for the second time that hour: a snug fitting tank top, its white material almost blinding against his dark skin; a pair of board shorts that just covered his knees, the thin material bearing an ombre colouring, from plum purple around his waist to a lighter lavender hue around his thighs; and he'd finished the look off with some simple, black flip flops.

In the span of a second, a myriad of thoughts raced through her mind: shorts and flip flops looked  _so_ wrong on him, the scrawny jerk's legs were surprisingly well-toned, it had better be a damn coincidence that a portion of his shorts were in the same plum purple hue as hers, and – worst of all – she'd have to look at all of that extra skin  _all day_. Ugh. Splendid.

A'isha's stomach growled wildly, reminding her that they hadn't had breakfast yet. Poor Carina was probably wondering where her favourite customer was. _Off torturing his fake fidanzanta,_ she answered with a self-pitying roll of her eyes. Hopefully Marik at least had the decency to leave the most tortuous of the torture that was this date until  _after_ they'd filled their empty stomachs.

A few minutes later, A'isha was glimpsing bits of shimmering cerulean water between groups of deep green shrubs. When the taxi eased to a stop, she was hardly surprised.

The guy had a mobile card machine, so Marik settled the bill with his credit card. "Stay here," he ordered- well, she called it ordering, though for once it came across as a polite request.

A'isha complied, but that didn't stop her from rolling her eyes. She unbuckled her safety belt and slumped into the seat with folded arms. Her eyes were glued to the back of the empty passenger seat, but her ears were honing in on the sound of the blond beside her. She heard him slide from the car and, once he was vertical in the parking lot, she saw him shuffle into his backpack from the corner of her eye; then he ducked into the back seat, sinking his left hand into the leather upholstery of his former seat for balance as he plucked up the radio from the middle seat with his right hand. A second later, the slam of his door resonated through the vehicle. Muffled steps upon asphalt. The click of her door. Her eyes snapped up and right to be met by an infuriatingly charming smile from Sir Jerk-A-Lot. Naturally, he was pulling out a touch of chivalry by getting the door for her.

On a normal day, A'isha would thank the driver and  _then_ take her leave. But right now, "normal" was the last word she'd use to describe her day. Trial date with her kidnapper? Not exactly a typical Saturday.

Instead, A'isha huffed. She was tense as she all but stormed out of the vehicle. Her first instinct was to glare. Instead, she whipped up the most astonished look that she could muster. "So  _that's_ how you open a door?"

Aaand just like that, Marik was grinning like an idiot. Apparently her sarcastic comment was hilarious. In hindsight, that wasn't surprising. And  _that_ realisation only filled her with regret.

 _Good one, A'isha,_  she silently scolded.  _Encourage the jerk further, why don't you?_

As if to surprise her furthermore, Marik kept his trap shut as he clicked the car door into place. Great. He was being  _weird_ again. Not overly nice, but not taunting her with some witty remark either.

The slightest of scowls settled on her face as Marik led her along a narrow concrete path… one she recognised. It snaked through freshly cut grass and short, moss green bushes to reach a beach. From memory, it had blindingly white sand, throws of umbrellas along the stretch of seashore and gentle waves- the kind that calmly lapped against the land, rather than pounding into it.

The whisper of waves and the hum of the morning traffic laced with their footfalls. The simple symphony served as their only company, aside from one another and the occasional passers-by, as they wandered along the meandering path. Through it all, A'isha tried and failed to keep two steps behind the persistent blond.

* * *

As it turned out, the first activity he'd planned was a simple picnic by the sea… on a quieter section of the beach… with Kelly Clarkson playing in the background… as he tried and failed to prod her with some uneasily normal conversation topics.

Favourite things. Places she'd like to see. Which Kelly Clarkson song she liked the most. What she'd done during her last trip to Catania.

They were all too date-appropriate for her liking.

Absently eyeing the horizon, A'isha half-heartedly picked at her breakfast and sighed. The vegetarian quiche he'd acquired was somehow still warm. Not microwave warm either. It was fresh. He must've snuck out of their room at some point this morning to buy it.

"Alright," Marik tore her from her daydreaming. She glanced right, her expression gloomy and downcast as she watched him shift onto his side upon his plum purple towel. He propped himself up on his left elbow, while his right arm settled across his abdomen. "Why don't  _you_ ask  _me_ a question?"

She glared at the ocean. "I think I'm good."

"Really?"

"Yup."

"You don't have a single question for me?"

"You still haven't answered my last one." Her glare hardened a notch. "When are you letting us go?" A'isha hated the near-genuine smile he was sending her way

"Come on, Ish." Clearly, he wasn't about to answer the question. "Leader of the Rare Hunters… In possession of an ancient artifact that allows its wielder to both read and control one's mind… A multi-millionaire… Not even twenty three yet… Devastatingly handsome and yet somehow still single – "

"No filter whatsoever… Ridiculously arrogant… Not even a sliver of modesty… So insufferable that the only way you can get a girl is by kidnapping her and— " She paused when Marik begun to shift where he sat, grinning like a madma- Oh wait. "What are you doing?"

Marik was quickly upright on the towel, his back straight and his legs criss crossed. He looked every bit the definition of enthusiastic, like this conversation had suddenly gotten a whole lot more interesting. "Extremely stubborn." Oh great. He was starting his own list for  _her_.

"I'm not stubborn! You're just a—"

"Fiercely loyal…"

"How is that a  _bad_  thing?"

"Fancies tall, dark and handsome men. Especially blonds." He ran a hand through his hair and she hoped that was a coincidence.

"Oh, that is  _so_ not true!" she barked, thrusting her pointer finger toward him like that solidified her claim. Unfortunately, her beet red blush did quite the opposite.

"Hates being read like an open book…"

A'isha huffed and slapped her now-empty paper plate on her striped towel. "For Pete's sake! You are  _so_ annoying!"

"Cares too much…"

"I do  _not_ care too much!" She crossed her arms, crinkling her orange shirt in the process. "I care just the right amount…"

Marik snorted. "Is in denial that she cares too much." His teasing smirk stretched as she struggled to hide an unwelcomed pout.

"I am  _not_ in denial either!"

He faked confusion. "Hm. Is in denial that she's in denial that she cares too much?"

Before she could even think better of it, A'isha had smacked his shoulder in a way that could almost pass for playful. "Stop it, Marik!" A slight smile quirked her lips upward, one she wiped away the very second she became aware of its existence.

"Don't think I didn't notice that."

She chose to play dumb. "Notice what?"

"That smile."

"I was only smiling because I got to hit you."

"Are you sure it's not because you're on the best kidnapping of your life?"

Again, she smacked him in a millisecond. "Shut up, asshole!" Great. He was laughing and- Wait. Was she laughing too? She quickly remedied that, feeling horrendously guilty and stupid for even laughing about something like that. Sadly, his knowing smile proved that the damage was already done. "I'd ask how you could possibly laugh about something like that, but you're sick enough to have kidnapped us in the first place so…"

"Twisted, not sick…" He paused to sip from an insulated coffee mug. "Sick makes it sound like it's curable." At this rate her eyes would be rolling out of their sockets by the end of the hour. "Would you rather I denied it?"

She simply shrugged, not bothering to humour him with an answer. Giving him ammunition to brass her off was painful enough when she didn't have a bajillion other things on her mind—like what day it was tomorrow.

But when Marik proceeded to sigh in a manner that could almost pass for dispirited, A'isha failed to mask the shock that slapped itself upon her face. Sir Jerk-A-Lot expressing no arrogance whatsoever, even seeming  _sad_? Inconceivable!

"Look." His stare was intense, even concerned, and completely serious. Disturbingly, none of it seemed like a front for once. "I know you're not exactly on top of your game today and I don't plan on hounding you on why that is. However, I feel it is appropriate to shed some light on our company for the proposition."

"Fine. Fire away."

"Well, let's just say I'm not the only one who may strive to shake the proverbial bottle that is your temper."

"I  _can_ keep my cool, you know?"

Marik looked ready to laugh. Obviously he disagreed.

"I'm serious," she added.

"Then prove it."

Another eye roll.

"It's a wonder your eyes haven't rolled right out of your head at this point."

Boy, she hated how quick on his feet the jerk was.

"So I'm curious… where did you major in being the biggest prick on the planet?"

"So  _I'm_  curious," he mimicked, only to grin when she groaned in self-pity. "Yesterday I mentioned that Amara doesn't know your favourite colour, your comfort foods, favourite books, or even which famous males you fawn over. The absence of that last one was a bit of a surprise." He thoughtfully cocked his head, but she didn't miss the snarkiness his voice had just possessed. "Care to enlighten me?"

"I would kill for some buttered popcorn to fill my face with in order to avoid your creepy prying."

"Interesting." Marik plucked a pen and his creep notebook from a side pocket of the backpack beside him. He tapped the top of the pen once against his hip to bring forth the tip, then flipped open the cover of the notebook. When he started to jot something down, she finally spoke up.

"What are you doing?"

"This information will be useful far beyond the ruse, Dear A'isha," Marik answered as he closed the notebook, absently rolling the pen between his fingers.

"Like how?"

"You will still be my captive after its conclusion. I'd rather make your stay as pleasant as I can."

"Pleasant? Ha!" She shook her head, laughing softly. "So you  _are_ still acting like the doting fiancé. In that persona you actually have a sense of humour!"

"Answer the rest of my question," Marik stated, shrugging off the remark.

"I don't have a favourite book."

"Is that because you don't care for reading?"

"I don't have much time for it."

He quirked a brow. "And why is that?"

A'isha frowned. The answer included some upsetting territory that she'd rather not dive into, like how she was too busy being Elissa's personal slave, nanny and punching bag to find time for much else. She hardly found the time to attend her after school drama class or to hang out with friends. Talking to Julie or Dani about all this, burdening them with her issues-  _that_  was hard enough. And they wouldn't use that stuff against her like Marik would.

"So who are those famous males you fawn over?"

Wait.

Had he actually taken a hint and not pressed the subject? Was he running a temperature? Or was this a part of his silly fiancé act?

In any case, she decided to humour him. Talking about famous guys with Marik was certainly better than discussing her home life with him—and  _that_  was saying something!

"Johnny Depp is a favourite, simply because he acts well in a lot of different roles."

"There are no males that you simply find aesthetically pleasing?" Marik inquired, arching an eyebrow.

"I think Shemar Moore is pretty aesthetically pleasing, as you put it."

"Ah, so your type  _is_  tall, dark and handsome?" Marik queried with a small smirk.

"Even if I did find  _you_ aesthetically pleasing—which I don't—you'd fall under tall, dark and creepy."

"Is that primarily because of the circumstance under which we met?" he countered with a delicate tone.

"I know you're not stupid." A'isha glowered at him, sighing soon after. "Is there anything that I need to know about you for our little act that I don't know already?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Seriously? Just before you asked if I had any questions for you and now you're saying I don't need to know anything about you to help with your stupid act!"

"You had your chance."

"You're impossible."

"Am I now?" Marik chortled after his inquiry. A'isha angrily folded her arms with an exasperated huff as he spoke again. "It feels like we're married already."

"I thought we were only engaged," A'isha pressed. "And that's a heavy assumption to make considering you seem like you've never even had a girlfriend."

"It's never been among my priorities."

"Pity. Having a girlfriend could help you learn how to actually respect women."

At that jab, she sensed a very slight change in her company's demeanour. She actually seemed to have sort of hit her mark and that should've been way more satisfying than it was.

"You seem to have no qualms about taking on that role yourself."

"Let me get one thing straight," A'isha stated through somewhat clenched teeth. "I do not like you. I think you are the biggest, self-centered jerk on the planet and not at all appealing."

"If I am so self-centered and have no idea how to respect women, pray tell, what is your explanation for what got you into this situation?"

"You didn't like that one of your goons thought it was wise to question your authority," she said like it was obvious. Disdain overruled the sarcasm in her voice as she continued. "I don't think you quite liked his intentions either." Her fingers threaded around the towel beneath her, trembling. "They're the same intentions that you claimed to have for Amara." Her knuckles went white.

"Intentions are not always acted upon," Marik stated bluntly. For her cousin's sake, A'isha really hoped he was telling the truth. "The other night, when I personally delivered that soup to you, your defences were visibly lowered. You had every intention of escaping then. You didn't even take a step."

"All my prior planning did was get me into this whole mess."

"Only because I anticipated your every move after you dropped me off at the docks."

_Do you have to remind me?_

"Yours was an admittedly admirable plan," he continued to prattle on. "Most of what was in your favour was purely circumstantial, however."

"You're the one who made those circumstances!"

"Are you expecting me to become apologetic to you? To suddenly have a guilt driven change of heart?" Marik shook his head slowly, denying his own inquiries. "We aren't in Alexandria anymore." He leaned over to grip A'isha's arm with a small sigh. "You're far safer with me than I imagine you would even think of admitting."

"What makes you think you actually know?" she spat, ripping her arm free.

"Must I again point you back to the event that resulted in the proposition for enough proof?"

A'isha snorted, not at all impressed by his implications that she owed him a damn thing. Yes, he'd stopped his seedy Rare Hunter from raping her, but she wouldn't have found herself in that very situation if not for him! Though really, his thought processes were unsurprising. He wasn't exactly what she'd call a sane human being, with a socially acceptable way of thinking. She finally spoke up. "Are you expecting me to have a change of heart and thank you profusely like the knight in shining armour you think you are?"

Marik chuckled softly. "Tomorrow  _is_ your thank you."

"You've said a lot of things equivalent to that lately. Would it kill you to give it a rest already?"

"You merely make it too easy." The blond downed the last of his coffee. "I noticed you've avoided a question. Your favourite colour." He smirked. "Orange, I take it, like the dress for the proposition?"

She groaned. "Did me eyeing up this shirt back in the store give it away?"

"Ah. So you  _were_ still asleep when you disclosed that little detail to me." She hated the way he was smiling like she was the butt of the joke.

"Hold up." Her brows gathered. "Did you ask me what my favourite colour was when I was—"

"Asleep. Yes."

A'isha prayed that was all he'd asked her when she'd actually been asleep, before waking up to him asking if she had a "type" of guy. The reminder of that morning only made her features twist with distaste. "Maybe I should start to call you Sir Creep-A-Lot instead."

"I don't know," he drawled, smirking to his hearts content. "I quite like Sir Jerk-A-Lot."

She groaned again, deciding to steer the conversation in a slightly less awkward direction. "Now that I think about it, there must be more that I need to know about you. I'm not the kind of person to show a disinterest in my partner- pardon, my  _fiancé_." She spat the word out with disdain.

"And where would you like to start?"

"Well yesterday you already blabbed on and on about your favourite shows, plays, movies and all that." She sighed, thoughtful. "Do you have any comfort foods?"

"Does it look like I tie food to emotions?" Marik chortled softly at A'isha's silence. "Care to amend the inquiry?"

"Fine. Favourite food."

"Koshari," Marik said tersely. "Anything else?"

"What do  _you_  like to read?" A'isha bit back a laugh as she suggested, "Mind Control For Dummies?"

"I find modern world history fascinating. I find the sciences intriguing as well. To be frank, I enjoy expanding my knowledge in general." He glanced at her, smirking from ear to ear. That was never a good sign. "So what's your ideal date?"

A'isha eyed him like he'd gone crazy—well, crazi _er_. "What – I – Did you  _seriously_  just ask that?"

"Did I stutter?"

Apparently Mister Asks Questions Out Of The Blue was another applicable nickname; though, really, that had long since been established. A'isha frowned, deciding on flipping the question, solely to put him on the spot. He did it to her enough, so she was merely returning the favour. "Tell me  _your_  ideal date first."

"A ripe one, of course."

She glared. "I didn't mean  _that_ kind of date, smart ass."

"Ohhh." Marik blinked, whipping out a perplexed look. "Sorry. My favourite date is April Fool's Day. Messing with people is twice as fun because they actually stop to doubt what I've said." He chuckled. "It's simply amusing to watch."

"Oh my God!" she cried, about ready to tear her hair out. "Seriously? How are you so annoying!?"

"Okay. Fine." His terseness went against the satisfied smirk he now flaunted in the wake of his teasing. "You'll find out my ideal date as the day progresses."

That answer did nothing for her nerves. "Oh goody," she managed to gush.

"Now it's your turn," Marik pointed out. "What's  _your_  ideal date?"

"I don't have one."

"I highly doubt that," Marik snorted, but shockingly decided not to press the matter. "In any case, you'll have an ideal date after today."

The statement was wretch worthy. Really. "So that vomit I got on your shirt earlier this week wasn't enough for you, huh?"

"Throwing up after I bought that breakfast would be very poor form." Marik grinned down at her as he smoothly found his feet. "After all, I paid for it myself." He savoured yet another roll of his captive's eyes while dusting off a few stray grains of sand from his shorts. "Now then." He crouched down and made a start on packing up their picnic. "With that being said, I believe it is due time for us to depart." The smile he sent her way could've almost passed for genuine excitement, but she still saw the insincerity behind the façade. "We really must keep to the schedule in order to ensure that we manage to experience each and every activity that I've planned for us."

Through a self-pitying groan, A'isha tipped back first against her towel. Him and his stupid creep notebook. Ugh. Who went so far as to write down an entire date itinerary? And in Italian too!

_Why am I NOT surprised?_

* * *

As it turned out, their next stop was the Museo del Cinema. She soon discovered it was an intriguing film museum full of fascinating memorabilia, posters, photos, perfectly-preserved cameras and other such equipment, and a heap of clips from a variety of cinema, whether they be plucked from an old silent film, something from the mid-twentieth century or even a movie from recent years.

A'isha loathed how much she loved the activity. Having always been into film and theatre, this place was right up her alley. And she'd yearned to check it out upon her last visit with Dani's family. Sadly, they were more into sports and outdoorsy stuff, and didn't really appreciate all that a museum had to offer.

After a small fee of four Euros each, they'd received a guided tour around the place in carefully enunciated Italian. She'd still found it hard to understand, only knowing bits and pieces of the language. That was probably why Blondie had pulled her to the back of the group, where he'd proceeded to quietly translate the entire tour for her. A'isha had refused to express her gratitude.

Now, they were situated in the back of yet another taxi, halfway to their next mystery activity. "You know I don't usually care about having things that I have no use for," she was busy saying, trying to ignore how oddly upbeat the blond beside her seemed, "but owning an antique cinema projector just for the hell of it… Gosh, I would probably just stare at it all day!"

"You and me both," Marik enthused. "And hey, why not use it? You could find an empty space on a wall, buy a couple of comfy chairs, scrounge a few reels together, deck the wall out with burgundy drapes and a proper backing for the projection—and  _viola_ , you have yourself a semi-authentic, old cinema experience!"

A'isha wiped the bright grin from her face the very second she became aware of it, and immediately glued her face to the car window beside her. Inside, however, she felt as though she were drowning in regret. Boy, was that street light interesting. Yep, it sure was. Just keep thinking about the street light—

How was Marik's grin so contagious anyway? And what was it even doing on his pretty boy face? It definitely didn't suit hi- Hold up. When had she started to think that his face  _was_ pretty? Well, technically she used it unironically even if he  _was_  admittedly attract—

_No! Shut up shut up shut up, stupid brain! Stop over-thinking already!_

Wait—why had  _she_ been grinning too?! She should be furious, distant, depressed… embracing the silent treatment like her life depended on it.

And yet she'd just been smiling. Freaking smiling! What was wrong with her today? Did he spike her quiche with a lethal dose of crazy this morning? Was he seriously using the Millennium Rod? Or was she just going crazy of her own accord?

Gosh, she was horrible. Simply horrible. A deplorable human being, thinking these things with a boyfriend back ho- Wait. Thinking  _what_  things? She wasn't even thinking about Marik that way. Just like she wasn't enjoying his company. Not one bit. He'd kidnapped her. He was The R.H. She was here against her will. He'd forced her into this super awkward situation. She hated him. Yes, she absolutely  _despised_  him. Any remotely positive opinions that she had of him had to be a result of him messing with her head. They just  _had_ to be. No doubt about it!

"That looks like the face of someone who's just realised that this really  _is_ the best kidnapping ever."

A'isha tensed, praying she wasn't blushing. "Why don't you shut up that pretty boy face of yours before I do it for you?"

"Thank you for noticing."

Ish immediately regretted the usage of that address. In addition to giving him more ammunition, she'd only reminded herself of all the over-thinking she'd just been doing. Greaaat.

"And now you've got me curious," he continued, and she wished his seatbelt had stopped him dead in his tracks when he leaned over the middle seat, far too close to her lips for her liking. "How exactly do you plan on shutting me up?"

She glared daggers his way. "I've got two words for you. Personal bubble." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "You're in mine."

"That's five words."

"Get out of my face."

"Also five words."

"Shut. Up."

"That's two. Good for you!" He returned to an upright position in his seat, smiling like a cocky idiot. "Though I'll let the terrible counting slide on the grounds that Mathematics is your worst subject."

"And what's yours?" she muttered, scowling at his reflection through the window.

"I don't have a worst subject."

"Here's one. Socially acceptable people skills."

"Have you forgotten that I choose when to care?"

"You cared enough to translate our tour guide for my sake." She noticed a minute amount of surprise flash across his face. Startlingly, acceptance soon followed.

"Let's just say your day didn't exactly start out great."

 _No thanks to you,_ she sourly thought, crossing her arms.  _Well, okay- it wasn't_ entirely  _your fault, but you certainly didn't help… well… at least not this morning._

"Why  _did_  you treat me so well during my panic attack last night anyway?"

"Clearly, I was somewhat responsible for the train of thought that caused it."

"You've had them yourself." A daringly declarative statement.

"Not for a few years." He knew his response was a blatant lie, but the only one who could call him on it wasn't there to do so.  _Three months ago._

"Define 'a few years'."

He didn't miss a beat. "Three months before my sixteenth birthday." Any joy, fake or not, was gone from the last two words and A'isha would have had to be blind not to notice the frown that weighed down his face in that instant. She was too busy registering that detail to notice Marik pass the taxi driver a quickly scribbled note with a change of directions.

He needed retail therapy. Immediately.


	24. Chapter 23: The Trial Date Pt II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains copious amounts of terrible puns. Sorry, not sorry. Please do enjoy the reading! We were in stitches writing this chapter! XD

**Chapter Twenty Three: The Trial Date Pt II**

They were now in some extravagant clothing store, where one glimpse of the price tag on a simple shirt had left A'isha's jaw hitting the floor like a cartoon character. After what felt like an eternity of following Marik around the place but was probably closer to an hour, they were finally in the unisex fitting room. As she sat beneath the low lighting on a plush, leather stool that probably cost more than her car, Ish was quite literally twiddling her thumbs. She could seriously murder him right now. Him and his seemingly metrosexual tendencies.

Of course his ideal date involved shopping. Or maybe it just involved torturing his victim—namely  _her_. Yeah, that was probably it.

"So?"

A'isha looked up from her hands to find Marik staring at her, rather than the full length mirror that occupied one whole wall of the fancy-schmancy room.

"So  _what_?"

The blond stared at her like that was the stupidest thing to have ever left her mouth. "So how do I  _look_?" he elaborated anyway.

She scoffed, her attention dropping to her hands once more as she absently examined her nails. Still more exciting than conversing with Sir Jerk-A-Lot. By a long shot.

Upon ignoring him, A'isha heard an aggravated sigh from her company.

"Well?"

"Ahem." She glared at him. "Why should  _I_  care?"

"You told me to try this on."

"Because you were whining about me not participating in your silly little shopping spree, so I chucked the first thing I saw at you and claimed it would bring out your arrogance."

"It's a black tank top," Marik snorted. "And very understated."

"Because anything overstated would clash with your arrogance," she jabbed, giving him a sugary smile. It fell with her next words. "And it's not like tank tops aren't your thing. Pretty sure they're all you've worn since I met you, aside from that dress you call a cloak. You even wore a black tank top kinda like that one," she pointed to his clothed chest, "back in Marina last Saturday."

A'isha knew the difference between the Marina tank top and this one too- last Saturday's top had a triangular neckline and thinner straps, rather than a circular neckline and thicker straps that covered more of his shoulders than not. Ish kept those details to herself. He'd probably make a point of teasing her for remembering something about him so well. Maybe even accuse her of something ridiculous like fancying him.

"I  _do_  have tops in other styles," he pointed out, turning back to the enormous mirror to examine his appearance for a moment. "Now in all seriousness." He spun a quarter circle to re-face her. "What do you think?"

"I think you should stop standing in front of that mirror." She simpered as he cocked a questioning brow. "One of you is one too many."

Marik rolled his eyes. "Well  _I think_  I'm getting it," he announced, seeking out the changing room that was now directly behind him and directly ahead of her. She was relieved to be a little closer to alone when he flicked the curtain shut. At least she couldn't  _see_  his infuriating face. That was something… sort of.

A'isha returned to glancing over her cuticles and, in that time, heard the rustling of material and the clang of a coat hanger as he presumably shrugged out of that top and into something else.

Perhaps half a minute passed before the silk drape swept aside once again, stealing her attention. She gaped at the sight before her, and disturbed didn't even begin to describe how she felt in that moment.

Marik was wearing a sleeveless, navy blue hoodie, the front bearing a golden chain near the collar and a zip from top to bottom. She didn't know what was worse. That it revealed his distractingly well-defined midriff, or that the V neck was so low cut that she could almost see his chest. A'isha pursed her lips in a valiant attempt to suppress a yelp of laughter, deciding that the worst part was neither the midriff nor the borderline nip-slip. It was the way that he was staring at himself in the mirror like he actually approved of the stupid thing.

"Please tell me that the midriff-revealing hoodie is proof that you actually have a sense of humour."

He glared at her through the mirror. "I happen to be quite fond of this style," he dismissed her jab, admiring his reflection from various angles.

Oh man. If Marik eyeing himself up wasn't cringe-worthy, A'isha didn't know what was.

"That silly thing looks like the result of laundry gone wrong."

Then a terrifying thought came to mind. Ish leaped from her seat and rushed past Marik, not missing his eyebrow raise as she made haste for the men's section of the store. She eyed a mannequin she'd seen upon entering, skimmed through a nearby clothing rack stacked with various shades and sizes of the ridiculous top, then gripped the base of that same rack as she heaved over with laughter.

Soon enough, Marik was standing to her immediate left. He was still wearing the hoodie… and he still looked just as ridiculous.

"Someone's a prude."

What he'd intended on being a harmless joke instead proved to be a very effective method to ending her laughing fit.

"You're the one who wanted to shop! If you don't want my opinion, don't drag me along!" She scoffed. "And excuse me? How does laughing at your girly shirt make me a prude?"

He arched a brow, smirking as per usual. "Can't you take a joke?"

"I've taken you all damn week."

"You can take me now, too, if you like."

A'isha should've been disgusted by the perverted jab, but instead she shocked them both as she descended into another fit of giggles. "I- I'm sorry," she wheezed, clutching her aching sides. Her next words were practically squeaked out. "I just… I really can't take you seriously in that stupid shirt!"

"It's not my first shirt in this style."

"And I haven't witnessed the first one yet  _why_?" Two seconds passed. "Actually maybe I should be thankful for that. Are you absolutely sure that your first one  _isn'_ _t_ the result of laundry gone wrong?"

Marik merely shrugged, heading back into the changing room with A'isha close in tow.

"So you're actually gonna buy that thing?"

He upped the glare a notch. "No. I try things on with no intention of buying them all the time." The sarcasm left with his next phrase. " _Yes_  I intend to buy it. That's usually the goal when one goes shopping- to find at least one thing you like."

"Are those all the same style and colour on that chair over there?" She gestured to the stool in his changing room cubicle. "Cause there's like fifty!"

"They're all very subtle colour variations."

"Subtle? They're all the same shade of purple!"

"Actually…" He marched into the cubicle, the curtain still set aside, and pulled one from the middle of the stack and by a miracle, managed to not send the tower of tops toppling over. "This one is lilac; it's lighter here, here and there's a major difference between it and the actual lavender one—"

"It's nice that you know so much about the variations of your favourite colour, but you  _do_  realise that you're wearing the wrong size, right?"

" _You_  think it's the wrong size."

A'isha recalled the mannequin in the main area of the store, sporting the very same shirt, only the material actually covered its midriff. "The dummy wearing it thinks so too." She paused. "Oh. Sorry, when I say dummy I mean the mannequin. Wouldn't want you having an identity crisis." This time, Marik was the one rolling his eyes for a change. "And I trust that the employees here know what they're doing when they dress the mannequins." She smiled sweetly. "So why don't you just admit that you're wrong and mosey along to buy your lifetime's supply of effeminate shirts?"

"I'm never wrong."

She stifled a laugh.  _Never wrong. That's got to be the funniest thing Mister Swollen Ego has said all day—pardon, all week._  She stifled another. "Did I say  _wrong_? Sorry, I meant to say  _gay_."

A'isha tensed as he leaned well within her personal bubble and- Oh hell no! He was  _not_ giving her a side hug! "My little Ishy Wishy," he huskily breathed in her ear, the warmth of his breath making her shudder, "we both know you'd doubt my answer either way."

Ish tried and failed to peel him off of her. "Mary Moo!" she squawked, stealing the attention of a duo at the other end of the rather sizeable changing room. Marik didn't seem to care. Neither did the onlookers. Ugh, they probably thought they were play-fighting or something. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm  _not_  big on PDA?"

"How many times do I have to tell  _you_  that relationships are all about compromising?" Marik shot back at a whisper.

Relief replaced the worst of her unease when he finally ended the embrace, though he was still a little too close for comfort. If he would be so kind as to jump on the very next ship to the moon, that'd be great.

"Believe it or not," she growled, "compromise in a relationship does  _not_  equate to your girlfriend—sorry,  _boy_ friend _—_ doing everything that you tell them to do."

"It's almost like you're  _asking_  me to prove my sexuality to you."

"I really don't care," she grumbled, sifting through a nearby rack of discarded clothing items for lack of nothing better to do.

Without warning, Marik planted a quick peck on her cheek. Oh, he was  _so_  lucky there were people around.

"What did I just say about PDA—"

"I'm going to change and buy all of those shirts." His smile was closer to sincere than mocking, which was decidedly more disturbing. "If you'd like to try anything on yourself, I suggest that you do so now. I really do hate waiting."

" _You_  hate waiting?"

"I'm sorry. Did our date get in the way of your very busy schedule?"

"Oh shut up."

Marik actually listened for a change. His semi-sincere smile curled into that more familiar smirk as he backtracked into the cubicle.

"Oh and don't forget the matching skirt and heels," she called out as an afterthought.

A'isha heard him bark out a laugh, the sound muffled by the changing room curtain. Try as she might, the tiniest part of her couldn't help but think that the stab at his masculinity hadn't been the only reason for the smile that had crept across her lips.

* * *

Another hour had passed before Marik wrapped up his retail therapy in the forth and final store they'd visited, after which time they'd stopped by their former hotel to drop off a bunch of stuff. They'd left their suitcases there that morning, Marik having explained that their things would be collected later in the afternoon and delivered to wherever their accommodation was tonight. Apparently said location was still a surprise.

Once they'd lightened their load, leaving behind leftovers from their picnic, the portable radio and a gazillion shopping bags that were solely his, the Egyptian duo had taxied to an ice cream parlour.

Of course Mister Coffee Addict had opted on two scoops of tiramisu as soon as he'd spotted the flavour. Meanwhile, A'isha had settled on a single scoop of chocolate cheesecake in an artisan waffle cone. It was probably the only genuinely sweet thing she'd get for the next day and a half, so she had figured she should try to enjoy it.

As they'd walked shoulder to shoulder through bustling city streets, purely because the sidewalk that led to the nearby beach was depressingly narrow, Marik had claimed to have once heard that ice cream was a sure fire way to a girl's heart.

"Oh really?" She had torn her attention away from her slightly melted ice cream scoop, acting oblivious. "Well  _silence_  is the sure fire way to mine." She paused. "And don't you know the guy is usually chivalrous enough to be on the street side of the sidewalk?"

Unsurprisingly, he had simply continued to prattle on about the origins of ice cream, complete with a few mocking comments at her expense. Well, the silence thing had been worth a shot.

Now she was on the back of a sleek, black and red jet ski, floating in knee deep water, about to head to she had no idea where, and in that stupid form-fitting wetsuit that made her daily dancing ritual into her skinny jeans seem like child's play. Marik was about to start the engine and she had around two seconds to make this jaunt a little bit more bearable. She pulled a black hair tie from the remaining three she had on her wrist and tapped him on the shoulder.

When he didn't respond, she decided that dangling the band in front of his face was a better idea. "Tie your hair back."

"No."

"Tie your hair back or I'll rip it off."

"If I wanted that, all I'd have to do is spend ten minutes listening to your cousin."

If anyone else had made that joke, A'isha would've cracked up. No doubt about it. Fortunately, Marik couldn't see her face from the driver's seat, because the only thing she cracked was a smile.

With a cruel twist of irony, a hint of laughing lavender caught her eye.

Then she realised.

Side mirrors.

The thing had teeny weeny side mirrors.

But to her chagrin, they were big enough for Marik to see her smile sink into a frown. At this point, all she could hope for was that said smile would be the only thing sinking today.

When he shocked her by saying nothing concerning her smile, A'isha managed a sigh and, realising her hand had dropped to her thigh somewhere amid her embarrassment, she held up the hair tie all over again.

"Will you please just tie it up?" Ish told herself that this was the closest she would ever come to begging him. "It was annoying enough on your death-trap and you had a helmet then, too." She smirked, adopting a taunting tone of voice as she swayed the hair tie back and forth at eye level. "And you wouldn't want to ruin those beautiful blond locks, now would you?"

"You think they're beautiful?"

A'isha wasn't sure if he'd responded to  _that_  of all things because he was yanking her chain or because he really  _was_  that vain.

"Just tie it up."

His shoulders shook as he chuckled, though thankfully he plucked the hair tie from her with a tanned hand soon after.

How had she not noticed how big his hands were next to hers? How they somehow appeared gentle and well-cared for, yet masculine and strong all at once… He was expressive enough with them half the time, when he was busy rambling on about the history of potatoes or whatever he'd been talking about after he'd finished going on about ice cream. And yet, despite the odd mix of qualities—the gentleness, the care, the masculinity and strength—those hands had callously wielded a mind-controlling stick, ruined lives and terrorised helpless victims more times than she dared to imagine.

 _Note to self,_  she begun in a valiant attempt to forget the weird train of thought,  _see if you can actually get him talking about the history of potatoes at some point today –_

"What's on your mind?"

All she could see were intense lavender irises in the right side mirror, watching her intently. That and a stubby, blond ponytail.

In an instant, her cheeks flushed scarlet. Another, more fleeting glance at his hands—the left now firmly gripping the handle bar while the right hovered at his side—was enough to know why she was blushing. Because the mere idea of him knowing she'd been thinking about his hands was humiliating in itself, not to mention super weird. Hands. Freaking hands.

Oh God. If he was really so inclined, he could easily have his answer too. She minutely wondered if he could use the Millennium Rod even when it wasn't on his person—like, say, when the thing was in his backpack, stowed away in the storage space beneath their two-man seat.

A'isha jumped when he spoke up once more.

"Well?"

She blinked twice, taking two seconds to recall his question. Oh yeah. How had she possibly forgotten something so stupid?

"You do realise the irony in asking me what I'm thinking, right?"

"At least I'm asking."

"Well that  _is_  what normal people tend to do."

"When did I give you  _any_ indication that I was normal?"

"Touché."

His lips parted into a blindingly white grin as he finally faced forward, the leather seat squeaking faintly against the thick cloth of his wetsuit.

Another blush darkened her cheeks as her mind wandered fifteen minutes into the past, when she'd been scarred for life for the second time in as many days by the sight of Sir Jerk-A-Lot in something ridiculously form-fitting. Last time, that something had been his black boxer briefs, complete with a… Ugh. And this time that something was his full body wetsuit that clung to certain parts of his anatomy so tightly that it mortified her.

Ish only prayed for three things: that Mister Observant hadn't noticed her desperate, barely successful attempts at averting her eyes because it was  _so flipping distracting_ ; that he wouldn't get any awkward boners which, by extension (pun intended), would be disgustingly noticeable in the wetsuit; and that they'd be changing out of this gear the very moment they reached their next destination. Thinking of which…

"Wanna hurry up and get the torture out of the way?"

Torture, otherwise known as 'no secure option aside from wrapping her arms around Creeper McCreeperson for an unknown amount of time'.

Unless…

There were hand holds along the side of the seat. If she could just reach those then maybe—

The engine drowned out her thought processes and the lurch forward made her grab for the nearest support, which sadly wasn't the seat handles. It was her date. He had released the throttle and was now coughing and spluttering after she'd clung onto him for dear life, seemingly winding him in the process. Ha! Served him right!

When he'd recovered a moment later, his hearty and oh-so-infuriating laugh mingled with the low hum of the motor.

"You asshole!" She tugged on his ponytail once, only marginally satisfied as a barely audible yelp escaped his lips.

"Geeze, Ish." Marik spared a one-eyed glance over his shoulder. The suggestive edge to his tone carried through to his next words. "At least wait until we're not in public before you pull my hair." A wink followed the statement.

"You disgust me."

"I love you too."

"Just drive."

Marik gave the throttle a two second tap, but this time she'd seen it coming. She only just managed to clasp the hand holds she'd discovered earlier. "Nice try." She simpered, possibly a little more pleased with herself than she should've been. "Try harder next time." Then A'isha deadpanned, knowing he'd one hundred percent take that as a challenge to—

Marik's right hand clenched the throttle at full force, forcing her to grip those hand holds like her life depended on it.

"YOU ARE SO. FREAKING. PREDICTABLE!"

Marik only laughed, the sound catching in the wind as they sped away from the shore, the jet ski bumping and bobbing their heads with every swell they zoomed over. She squinted as the salt of the sea mixed with the icy breeze, whipping through her hair and sending the strands billowing out behind her. She was already dreading the solid ten minutes she'd spend brushing a bajillion knots out of it later today. Damn, why hadn't she taken her own advice and used a hair tie too?

The pair had been driving at full speed around a quarter mile out from the mainland for maybe half an hour when Marik eased his hand off the throttle. When he grinned back at her, bits of crusty, dry salt splattered across his caramel skin and his bangs a dishevelled mess, A'isha couldn't help but laugh at the sight.

"You look ridiculous."

Marik snorted, tipping his head toward the right hand mirror. "If you think I look ridiculous, you should see yourself."

A'isha didn't bother to sneak a peek at the disaster that was probably her face, not to mention her hair. Doing so would likely sour her mood furthermore. Plus she might've missed her company gingerly sift a tanned hand through his bangs in an effort to tidy them up. She wondered if Mister Vanity had even realised he'd done it or if it was simply a habit.

"I thought you liked everything being about you," she eventually replied.

"And I thought that relationships were all about compromising?"

"Only when it suits you, apparently."

She couldn't see his grin, but knew it hadn't wavered- knowing him, it had probably grown. Whatever the case may be, he said nothing. Phew.

A'isha cleared her throat, scanning her surroundings. Sea, sea and more sea. With a dash of green and gold in the distance, belonging to a secluded beach hidden away amid high cliffs and shrubbery.

"Is that where we're heading?"

"Yes."

"So why have we stopped here?"

Already smirking, Marik cautiously found his feet and, as A'isha silently wished for a particularly large swell to sweep him into the azure ocean, he pulled a one eighty on the rather cramped vehicle. He'd soon re-plonked his scrawny butt down on the seat, only this time he was facing her, so close she'd needed to shuffle back just to make sure that their legs weren't touching.

"Have you driven a jet ski before?"

"Yeah," she drawled, already ninety nine percent sure of where this was going.

"I'm feeling generous." He held out a neon yellow wristband, upon which hung a bright orange key and a tiny, plastic buoy in the same shade as the band. The wristband was a failsafe, should the driver tumble from the vehicle and into sea, while the buoy ensured it wouldn't sink and the neon colours made it easy to spot. "Care to take the wheel?"

"Are you serious?" she blurted out, blinking half a dozen times.

"As long as you don't crash the thing and leave us stranded."

"Aren't you worried that I'll try to send you flying?"

He laughed loudly, like the mere idea of her achieving such a feat was a fool's pursuit. "You can  _try_."

Well.

He asked for it.

A'isha eagerly grabbed the wristband, more than ready to teach her dear fiancé a lesson. In one fluid motion, she strapped the band around her wrist. "Step aside, Blondie!"

"I assume you don't mean that literally."

"Well if you want to take a dip, I certainly won't stop you…"

"And get these beautiful blond locks soaked?"

"I was joking about the beautiful locks and you know it."

"You know you love them." Marik dropped halfway down the jet ski on the right side and sidled and shimmied along its edge, with only his legs touching the water.

"Do you know any other comebacks besides me loving stuff? Or are variations of that phrase just your favourite today?" A'isha scooted forward to grab the handlebars.

She watched through those fancy-schmantzy side mirrors as Blondie hoisted himself back onto the fairly spacious seat with a small amount of trouble. "Actually, the phrase of the hour is 'I'll start to drive the jet ski as soon as possible.'"

He moved to look at his watch—or where it would be if he was actually wearing it—and before he could speak again, A'isha rolled her eyes. "Lemme guess," she started, her words dry as stale toast. "It's a quarter past 'hurry up and start the engine and get going."

"Actually, it's 'a quarter past hurry up and dri-.'"

A'isha throttled it and executed several sharp turns in succession, narrowly avoiding tipping the vehicle over on the last one. After the last turn, A'isha glanced back and barely suppressed a laugh. Clearly Marik barely had time to grasp the side handles at the acceleration: he was a shade paler than usual and his fingers had gone white courtesy of his grip… he sort of reminded her of a cat clinging onto something for dear life, its face twisted with terror and its fur standing on end.

"Who on earth taught you how to drive a jet ski?!"

"Ahad."

There was a moment's silence, save for the engine idling.

Marik tapped her on the shoulder. "Go gradually to the right while going forward at the same time."

" _Why_  are you so wordy?"

"If there were a more efficient way to describe what I want you to do, I would." She smirked as she revved the engine and, again through the side mirrors, saw a look of panic before he added, "And for Ra's sake, not like a madwoman!"

"Oh, so not like you then?"

"Ahem. Mad _man._  And I'm quite mentally sound, thank you very much."

"There's a certain river you're neck deep in: da-Nile." A'isha cracked up at her own joke.  _Possibly even underwater at this point._ Any joy she had was sapped at the straight face that met her in the mirror. "Oh geeze, quit being such a stick in the mud!"

"Reed in the mud. Reeds grow on the Nile."

"Oh, that's right… the stick is up your ass." Still no reaction. "Now you're just doing this on porpoise." A'isha suppressed a groan—this next one was going to be painful. "This  _is_ the best squidnapping I've ever been on."

"I was wading for you to say that."

Of course  _that_  had gotten a reaction out of him.

"I can still flow you overboard," she shot back.

"That'd be quite shellfish of you. And you have no otter way to arrive at oar destination."

"Krill me now." A'isha groaned, massaging her forehead.

"You have fishues."

"And you're the whole school."

"I can't help that I'm witty."

"Don't you mean wetty?"

"Toushell."

"I'm getting tide of all these puns," A'isha said through a sigh.

"You're whalecome to stop."

"Of course I clam."

"Are you shore?"

"Dolphinitely."

"Swell."

"Can we stop now?"

Marik snorted. "Frayed knot- can't kelp myself."

"This has turned into a clamity…" She smacked her forehead. "Why can't I stop making puns?"

"It's wordplay and requires a bit of improvisation. And once one's head is already in that frame of thought, it's difficult to break."

"Sea, I can think on my feet." A second passed before she burst out laughing at the unintentional pun, while Marik somehow managed to contain his humour in a snicker.

"Perhaps you won't clam up tomorrow."

"Let's not start up again."

"It'll probubbly come in waves."

First he refuses to participate in cracking puns, now he won't shut up. She sighed, shaking her head at how typical that was. "Water we doing next?"

"Driving the jet ski safely, as your dear uncle surely taught you."

"Says the guy with the motorbike."

"I've always driven responsibly with precious cargo on board."

"I'm torn between mildly flattered and supremely insulted."

"Who said I was referring to you?"

A'isha scoffed. "I knew you were talking about yourself." Okay, maybe that was a lie.

"Which is it then, flattered or insulted that I take such good care of myself?"

"Surprised that you actually took your time and obeyed speed limits."

"I do actually enjoy our time together."

"You've got to be squiddi-!"

"I'm not kidding." Based on his tone, and what she could see of his face in the side mirrors, Marik was being dead serious. "And you're back on the puns apparently."

_Please don't tell me this whole 'I'm not kidding' thing is his idea of expressing interest in m-_

Her brain then ground to a halt. She suddenly felt a strange and inexplicable urge to throw up. And age should  _not_ have been so easy to forget. "You're  _twenty-two_! Or did you forget that  _and_ the fact that you squidna—argh!—ki-kidnapped me  _and_  also that I have a boyfriend?!"

"How  _cute_. You think I like you."

A'isha relaxed instantly. "Oh thank goodness! Now the urge to jump overboard is just a backup plan and not a necessity."

"Although maybe I do fanc-"

" _Don't_  make this more difficult than it already is."

"If you'd let me  _finish_ , I fancy the idea of dinner sooner rather than later."

A'isha was so,  _so_  glad she was in front—it hid the flushing embarrassment well at how her mind had wandered to something so utterly ridiculous and disgusting as Marik liking her. What a nightmare that would be!

"Now then," Marik continued, "if you'll proceed forward and right, we'll stow the jet ski there." He pointed to a secluded shoreline area nestled in the bay. "But if you haven't appeased your inner daredevil, there's no harm in another few minutes. Just—if you want to throw me off—get a bit closer to shore."

"It sounds like you  _want_  to swim to shore." She revved the jet ski again. "Off with you then!"

"You wish it was that easy."

"Challenge accepted."

A'isha panicked as his arms effectively cinched her middle. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

 _The only thing desperate around here is you, Sir Creep-A-Lot._ She barely bit back the insult. "Grabbing my waist wasn't part of the deal."

"You should know by now that I'm the one who makes the rules."

A'isha scowled at horizon."You're insurfferable!"

He leaned in far too close to her ear. "I love your puns, but be careful of overkeelling it."

"Krilljoy."

"You're wasting time."

"Do you seriously  _want_ to get thrown off?" She spared a glance over her shoulder at the forever smirking jerk. "Because I'm about thiiiiiiis close to chucking you over the side myself."

"I'd love to see you try."

"If I wanted something repeating things over my shoulder, I'd get a parrot." She paused for a moment. "It'd probably provide better conversation too."

"Well now I'm insulted."

"Arrr you sure about that?"

" _Pi_ rate that at about a one out of ten."

"Not 3.14159265359?" Not even a chuckle. "Oh come on…. Pi- rate."

"Eleven decimal places, I'm impressed."

"Really?  _That's_  what you took from that? Man, you really  _do_  have no sense of humour!" In hindsight, that really shouldn't be news to her.

"Shore. Now."

A'isha rolled her eyes before piloting the jet ski to that secluded part of the shore. She peered over the edge and estimated the water to be about knee deep, maybe a bit more.

"Is the tide going in or out?"

"Out."

"Wanna anchor us?"

"Memory really does fail you quickly."

Here we go…

"Yeah, yeah. You make the rules bla bla," she stated, imitating a rambling mouth with her entire right hand. "Just shut up and make yourself useful."

"Now who's the krilljoy—"

"Why, I'm merely reducing myself to your level of superiority." It had only been a plus that she'd successfully pulled off his whiny voice, all nasally and grated, as she'd said that sentence.

"I don't sound like that- and the usage of the word 'reducing' implies that I—"

"Oh would you look at the time." She glanced at her left wrist, bare unless the wetsuit sleeve counted. "It's shut up and listen to your fake fiancée o'clock."

"But you—"

"—don't have a watch?"

A'isha knew she'd guessed right by the minute amount of surprise he showed. A grin soon replaced that surprise.

"Just grab my backpack on your way to shore."

Before she could reply, he tossed a leg over the seat and smoothly slid off the vessel with a slight  _splash_. She watched him wade and waddle his way around the small vessel, making her think of some weird, mutant penguin-duck. She stifled a laugh at the thought as he grabbed an anchor tucked away at the front of the jet ski and proceeded to dry land in that same ridiculous fashion.

Only when he slammed the anchor firmly into the sand did A'isha retrieve the backpack from the storage compartment beneath the seat. After sliding off the jet ski, she carefully held the bag above the softly shimmering water, taking extra care to not look like a total idiot as she waded her way up to the beach.

Upon reaching damp sand, semi-recently touched by lightly lapping waves, A'isha tossed the backpack and jet ski wristband Marik's way, then immediately started to stretch. He quirked a brow as if she'd grown a second head.

Marik seized the time to pull a book from his backpack. She finished stretching shortly after. "It's a bit of a walk so I'll regale you with…" He finally looked at the title and paused, A'isha dare thought he hesitated. " _A Compact History of the Potato-_ " As he paused again, flicking to the first page, she barely stifled an amused snort."Scientific name is  _Solanum Tuberosum_ first of all…"

"Can this wait till  _tater_?"

"Foiled again."

"Why yam I not surprised?"

"So much for starching a conversation without puns."

"At least you fried." She finally burst out laughing, peeling – oops,  _feeling_ like she was on a major roll today as far as puns were concerned. "Seriously though- a book on potatoes, please tell me that was a mistake and that you meant to grab  _A Compact History of Portugal_."

"How did you know?"

"The title was a guess, but I figure you alphabetise your books. Typical."

"As any rational person would."

"A rational person wouldn't kidnap someone."

"It always boils down to that."

"This isn't the time to be punny!"

"I was actually being serious."

"Just shut up and read your silly book about potatoes."

"And if I wanted to read aloud?"

"Well, at least you like potatoes. And that makes you margarinelly butter than Elissa." Her expression soured as the name left her lips, sucking all joy from the double pun. "Not by much though so don't go developing a saint complex."

"There's no chance of that happening."

"Oh right, you have a God complex." She shot him another pointed look. "I assume you're super careful around rivers."

"While I get better looking each day, I'm not as foolish as Narcissus."

"Still doesn't convince me that you wouldn't look at your own reflection for days on end."

"What's not to like?"

Okay. This was steering somewhere terrifying, not to mention she probably couldn't list what was to like about his appearance even if her life depended on it.

"Let's just get to the next thing in your creep notebook that I can't read because  _someone_  had to write his creep list in freaking Italian!"

He started walking toward what looked like a pathway amid greenery of all shapes and sizes. From this distance, she couldn't tell if the path was constructed from dirt or sand. "If you had read the notebook, our day wouldn't be a surprise."

As she started to follow him up the beach, bits of dry sand clung to her rather wet feet. "How can you still not understand that I hate surprises?"

"Same reason you still fail to grasp that I thrive on others' discomfort and unease."

"You said ten percent of your energy comes from the sweet, sweet misfortune of others." She grimaced slightly. "If that's the case, today you'd be able to give the Energizer Bunny a run for his money." A'isha groaned. "Boy am I glad that whole energy from other's misfortune thing isn't my style."

"Well I'd hate to- CRAMP!"

A'isha all but jumped at his abrupt yelp of pain. He suddenly grabbed his right leg and started hopping on his left foot. "Okay." He hopped once. "Now I know," Another hop, "why you were stretching." He hopped one more time before unceremoniously face-planting the beach.

"Actually, I take that back." She heaved over laughing, nearly falling over. "I guess the sweet, sweet misfortune of others is a good pick me up. And whataya know? You really  _are_  giving the Energizer Bunny a run for his money! Or should I say a  _hop_ for it?"

"Will you help me up already?"

"And give you a chance to drag me down to your level? Ha! Not a chance, Blondie." She loved how the tables had turned for once, giving the jerk a taste of his own medicine. "I'd much rather see you floundering around on the ground."

"So help me Cod, when I get up- owowowowOW!"

"Geeze, you're such a wuss!"

"And when was the last time  _you_  had cramps?"

"Oh gee, I can't reme- Oh yeah  _EARLIER THIS WEEK_ when my uterus was having a temper tantrum and nearly tore me in two."

"Oh what a nightmare two of you would be."

"Two words that should terrify you: Two Amaras."

"Actually that's technic-"

"It's. Two. Words." She flicked her hair to one side, mostly because the wind was whipping it into her skin. And maybe a little bit for the sass. "And I'd rather deal with  _ten_  Amaras than even  _one_  of you."

"I so wish you could eat those words."

"Oh, like you ate that mouthful of sand?"

"I was hoping you missed that."

"Ha. That made my week. Heck, my whole life." She paused as he finally started sitting up, still massaging his right leg. "Actually, no. First prize for making my whole life still goes to the bucket of ice cold revenge I dumped on Evil Elsie after she left me soaking, stranded and almost rape-ra-rapping!"

"You don't strike me as a rapper." He watched her face fall very slowly. And if he was seeing straight, she'd started to tremble and fight back a few tears. "This doesn't sound at all sincere coming from me, but sometimes it helps to talk about it."

"You'd use it against me."

"Talk to me. Find ou-OW!" He was still attempting to massage his leg, but the damn wetsuit was too thick and getting in the way. "I'm not going anywhere any time soon apparently."

"You look really uncomfortable."

"Also water is wet. And responsible for this wetsuit adhered to my skin in the most annoying way."

"Oh no…. oh nonononono. You're not wearing anythi-"

"Boxers. I  _do_  have some sense and dignity."

"I really don't like where this is going."

"Well I don't fancy it either." He tried to dig a little harder into the offending muscle, to no avail. "But this wetsuit really is doing me no favours."

"Oh, for Pete's sake!" A'isha dropped down beside him in the dry sand, minutely cringing as a layer of it clung to her rather soaked wetsuit. "Stretch your leg out straight and flat against the ground like this." She demonstrated, tucking in her left leg while extending her right leg flat against the sand and diagonally ahead.

"I know how to stretch—"

"Then try that first before even implying that you wanna take off your clothes, you freaking perv." A'isha glared at nothing in particular as she grabbed the end of her right foot and pulled it towards her, stretching her calf in the process.

Marik grinned her way for some reason, but mirrored the stretch nonetheless. Not even ten seconds passed before the grin fell and he opened his whiny trap again. "This is rather unpleasant on my balls."

A'isha sputtered for two seconds, coming to grips with the fact he'd just casually gone and commented on the current state of his nuts. Finally, she sent a retort his way. "You know what else is rather unpleasant on your balls…  _My foot_."

Now he was chuckling to himself and grinning like crazy.

"That wasn't supposed to be funny."

"I don't know about that. You look pretty proud of yourself right now." At that, A'isha realised she was smiling. Again. She fixed that pronto.

Still smiling that creepy smile, Marik alternated between stretching and massaging his calf, while A'isha criss-crossed her legs and simply watched. He winced after moving his leg a smidge only caused the cramping to strengthen all over again. "I can't say the stretch is really helping. Whenever I move it—"

The remaining words were caught in his throat as A'isha roughly yanked his cramping leg into her lap. "What are you—"

"I'd rather massage your calf myself than see you in your damn underwear." She sighed, trying to keep her distaste to a minimum as she focussed on massaging his calf. Hopefully it did the job despite the thick wetsuit. "Is that the right spot?" She glanced up to find him eyeing her curiously. His arrogance must've been taking the minute off. " _Well_?"

"A little lower."

"There?"

"Perfect."

A'isha stared down his leg, unsettled by the way he wordlessly watched her whilst drumming the fingers of his left hand against his thigh on that same side. She was relieved for the strands of salt-ridden hair that framed her face. It hid the awkward-induced blush fairly well.

Funnily enough, the next comment from Mister Loves To Make Others Squirm didn't surprise her in the least.

"You're good with your hands."

"And you're not." She smiled at him sweetly, not ceasing her massaging. "Or I wouldn't be needing to ease your cramp myself."

"Or this is all some elaborate ploy to get you to massage my leg."

"That had better not have been a third leg joke."

"Don't be silly, Ish." Marik smirked. "I wasn't joking."

A'isha practically threw his leg at him. "So you're a pedo as well as a murderer?" Her revulsion was as plain as day.

"What are you—" Marik deadpanned. She caught a glimpse of remembrance light up his eyes. "I—I'm not a paedophile!"

A'isha scoffed. "The age of consent in Egypt is  _eighteen_  and you're twenty two—six years older than me!" She found her feet in two seconds flat. "So when you go and make sexual remarks like that, it kinda comes off as—"

"I'm  _fifteen_!"

And just like that, her jaw hit the ground and her eyes lurched from their sockets.

. . .

"You're  _what_?"

Marik suddenly found the ground absolutely enthralling. Not much of a feat, considering he was still sitting on it. "I… I know you're not deaf."

"Well how do  _I_ know that  _you're_ not lying!?"

"You don't." She was met by the lavender hue of his gaze a moment later. Somehow, the seldom-seen sincerity in his eyes alone almost had her convinced, and that only infuriated her. He was a  _liar_. He was  _saving face_. He— "But no one enjoys being accused of paedophilia- and I'm no exception."

"So…" She hesitated. "So you're really only fifteen?"

Marik relaxed at that, his body slackening with relief. "Yes, I am."

A'isha still wasn't completely sold by his claim, but decided to go with it anyway. Try as he might, Marik would never really convince her. He was still the type to spout lies at his benefit. Heck, he'd lied about the beds being inseparable for a start.

Sir Creep-A-Lot was still spread out on the sand, stretching his right leg. "So you're telling me that I'm older than my kidnapper?" She sort of hoped that wasn't true. On the one hand, Marik being fifteen was somehow relieving in that his dodgy remarks were perhaps the teeny tiniest bit less threatening. On the other hand, he was still just as capable of overpowering her should he wish to and, regardless of age, he was the leader of a massive criminal organisation. Geeze, a fifteen year old was The R.H.? That just sounded downright inconceivable.

"When is your birthday?" Marik asked, much to A'isha's surprise.

"Why do you care?"

"Does it matter why?"

A'isha sighed, surmising that there was no harm in him knowing. "The third of October." Then she perked up and fluttered her lashes, clearly feigning sweetness. "You can pop it in your calendar between 'taking over the world' and 'evil dentist appointment'."

Marik simply snorted.

"So, uhh, when's  _your_  birthday?"

"Soon."

"Are you serious? You're  _not_  gonna tell me the date?"

"No."

"But I just told you mine!"

"So that makes me obligated to tell you  _mine_?"

"Suddenly your age makes sense to me," she scoffed, staring the boy down. "You certainly act like a sulky, petulant teenager!"

For the second time that day, she perceived a rarely shown emotion strewn through his body language, from his grim expression to his slumped posture…

Sadness.

All of a sudden, his sensitivity about his birth date dawned on her. His mother had passed while bringing him into this world. Her frown faltered.

"I… I'm sorry."

The apology shocked them both.

And for once, Marik had nothing to say. He remained seated on the sand, an unreadable look pasted upon his face as he stared out at the still horizon. Somehow, A'isha had a feeling that the unreadable look was only another expression of sadness.

For a few minutes, A'isha said nothing either. Simply left him to his thoughts. This was a side of him she'd never seen before and it puzzled her—not that she  _hadn't_  seen this side of him before. Quite the opposite. She was puzzled that this side even existed in someone like him to begin with. It scared her, for it reminded her that he was human. It reminded her that he was capable of something besides arrogance and rage, desire and greed, or some sort of warped amusement and satisfaction.

It reminded her that he could  _feel_.

Really feel.

That terrified her. Because it only made it that much easier to feel sorry for him. Or rather, it made it that much harder  _not_   _to_. And now, more than ever, it made her wonder exactly what had made him this way.

A'isha heaved a sigh. She spotted Marik's fancy book about potatoes half buried in sand around five feet from the blond. His passionate embrace with the beach had clearly been so hilariously distracting that she'd failed to notice him drop the tiny book to grab his cramping calf. As she made a move to retrieve it, Ish didn't miss Marik's attention snap her way. Her movement must've torn him from whatever he'd been thinking about.

The older of the two crouched down to pluck up the book and hardly noticed her own clear of the throat. "The potato is the world's fourth largest food crop, following rice, wheat and maize. The Inca Indians in Peru were the first to cultivate potatoes around eight thousand BC to five thousand BC." She didn't miss the slight upward quirk of Marik's lips as she paused to suck in a breath. "In 1536 Spanish Conquisa-something or others—"

"Conquistadors," Marik corrected her, his smile a little more prominent now. Surprisingly, the correction held no snarkiness.

A'isha gave a dismissive wave of her right hand, the left continuing to hold the tiny book. "Oh, it's too late for fancy words," she joked. "But those guys conquered Peru, discovered the flavours of the potato and—Hold up."

"What?"

"There's a typo."

Marik tensed at that. Why did she have a feeling that Mister Perfectionist was freaking a little too much at the thought of the thing having a mistake? That only made her snort in amusement.

"Yeah. They said those Spanish Conquistadors conquered Peru and discovered the flavours of the potato. Now what they  _should've_ said is that they discovered the glorious, unrivalled and utterly perfect flavours of the world's most fabulous veg—"

When a hearty laugh interrupted her blabbing, A'isha stopped out of sheer shock. First sadness, now genuine joy that wasn't  _at_  her expense. What came next? The Zombie Apocalypse?

"You really like potatoes, don't you?"

"They're only my second favourite food after buttered popcorn."

"Then you'll be pleased to know I made sure to include them on the dinner menu this evening."

She blinked, confused. "How did you—"

"You mentioned your love of potatoes while sleep-talking too."

"Oh. Wonderful." Boy, she really hoped she hadn't divulged some deep, dark secret that not even she knew about.

"Don't worry," Marik begun, seeming to sense her concerns. "You didn't admit to some undying love for celery." His thumb and index finger curled around his chin. "Though you did mention that it was evil. A special type of green like Jim Carrey as The Grinch."

It was her turn to crack up laughing. "Well at least I was being an honest sleep-talker. Okay. Not really, but I'm not a major fan of celery. It's all stringy and gets caught in my teeth, plus it doesn't taste like much unless you put it with peanut butter or something."

"Actually, the taste of the celery remains the same. The peanut butter is what—"

"Stop nitpicking. You  _know_  what I mean."

Marik revealed a wry smile. "Nonetheless," he finally found his feet, "all this talk of food is working up my appetite." He dusted off the layer of sand that had clung to his still-damp wetsuit, which reminded her to do the same.

"And all this talk of food has eased your cramp too?"

"Apparently. Though perhaps the stretching played a part too."

A'isha froze at the smile he revealed following that statement. A genuine smile that was oddly both familiar and yet not at all. One thing was certain. She'd seen it before on the visage of another. That upward tilt of the mouth. That gentle twinkle of the eye. That lingering look. That warm sort of smile that softens the whole face and the owner isn't even aware that they're wearing it.

Fondness.

The romantic kind.

A'isha was almost sure of it.

At that revelation, she was met by another emotion. One that had her hands balling into trembling fists. One that thrust forth hot tears to viciously claw at her eyes. One she was painfully aware of while desperately doubting the reason for its existence.

Guilt.

Not at the ridiculous idea of falling for her kidnapper. Never in a million years would she let something so twisted happen. No, she was guilty at the notion that she was actually being nice to Marik. That she'd been cracking jokes and even puns, something she did with her friends—with Dani. That he was actually giving her a look that, if she wasn't mistaken like she prayed she was, meant he might just feel something for her. And that she was sort of playing a part in him potentially crushing on her by dropping her guard down enough to be a hair away from friendly.

Now that he was possibly fifteen, nearly sixteen, with close to no age gap between them…

Oh God.

This was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare.

No. She was being stupid, thinking these things when he was… well…  _him_ : an unfeeling, egotistical psychopath who didn't give two craps about anyone besides himself. If he did feel anything for her, it was some sick and twisted desire. A creepy lust for his pathetic, helpless captive.

Great. For some reason, that only made her feel ten times worse.

"A'isha?" She went taut. How long had she been standing there looking completely out of it? "What's wrong?" One look at his now blank face was enough to reveal that he already knew at some level, but not how much. His hands went to where pockets would be, hovering just above the fabric. "Are you alright?"

At that, her eyes narrowed to slits. She refused to admit that her scowl was even remotely forced, and refused to acknowledge the fact he'd actually asked something so seemingly selfless and so, so unlike him. "What do  _you_ think?!" A'isha didn't miss the minute amount of surprise that pasted itself upon his face as she slapped the compact book shut and stormed past him. "Let's just get the rest of your stupid trial date over and done with!"

When the demand was met by nothing save for the muted  _squeak_  of his feet against dry sand, that same sense of guilt returned with a vengeance, complete with a concerning amount of confusion. This time the root cause for said guilt was different and decidedly more unnerving.

A'isha had a hunch that his sorrow had resurfaced…

And that snapping at him had only intensified it.


	25. Chapter 24: The Trial Date Pt III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Heads up, this chapter contains another lengthy flashback, so we're putting a good ol' -flashback start/end- in the chappie to give you guys a heads up. And just a disclaimer, we don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender and any other trademarked things that might've been mentioned in this fic that we're sure we've overlooked. Please enjoy another chapter of In A Name: Act I!

**Chapter Twenty Four: The Trial Date Pt III**

It had long since been established that Marik found her physically attractive. Only one day into her all-expenses paid kidnappee cruise to wherever, Creeper McCreeperson had gone so far as to ask her what wasn't to like about her appearance. He'd even disgustingly claimed he could woo her. At the time, his claim had been terrifying, threatening, disturbing.

It still was. Or at any rate, that's what A'isha tried to tell herself.

Marik wasn't stupid. Even he knew the odds of actually wooing her were like a snowflakes chance in hell. She was nothing like her cousin, who'd melt into a warm puddle of goo if a good-looking guy so much as blinked at her. When she'd been crushing on Dani, she'd made sure to date him almost two months before they became official. No, she wasn't as easily swayed by boys. Never had been, never would be.

There was only one issue now. At least, one that had truly stolen any head-space these last ten minutes. The problem wasn't Marik fancying her in the physical sense. Not anymore.

The problem was him fancying her for what was inside—as cheesy as that sounded. She told herself she was wrong, that she was thinking too highly of herself if she thought he really gave a damn about her, that he liked her on any level whatsoever—romantically or otherwise. Maybe that smile back on the beach had just been another smirk. Maybe he was just being less annoying today for reasons she didn't understand. Or maybe he was being just as irritating as usual and she'd simply gotten used to it.

And was The R.H. really only fifteen?

Okay. She hadn't really meant it when she'd said he acted like a sulky, petulant teenager.

Not entirely anyway.

In all honesty, the guy seemed pretty mature for his age. Well, assuming he was telling the truth. He could very well be lying. Wouldn't be the first time.

Now as much as she hated to admit it, A'isha had a habit of caring too much—and Mr Manipulative knew it, too. He could quite easily take advantage of that quality, bending her to his will; maybe even use his age – true or not – to his advantage in some way she hadn't yet thought of. She'd never say it out loud, but it was so darn hard to keep up with him. Somehow, Marik was predictable and yet not at all. One minute he was brassing her off like usual, throwing snarky comments around and relishing her vexation. The next, he was acting all sad or sombre or sulky and—Gah! The jerk should just start his own theme park; the main attraction could be dubbed "The Bipolar Express".

And to her immense distaste, she felt terrible for snapping at him. She shouldn't. By God, she  _knew_ she shouldn't. The jerk just made it so dang hard to stay mad at him when he was being so silent, so sad, so ridiculously unlike himself. The whole "caring too much" thing didn't do her any favours either.

A crunch tore through her thoughts, the sound of a shrivelled leaf beneath her foot. Shards of light peaked through the coastal trees around them, painting patterns across the winding dirt path.

Of course, Marik was two steps ahead of her – when wasn't he? – as he led the way to what was hopefully the last part of their stupid trial date. He hadn't talked the whole walk. She almost wished he had, if only to give her another reason to be mad at him, rather than to pity him.

To her relief – something she rarely savoured these days, or any day for that matter – the forest finally gave way to a small clearing, right at the crown of the hill they'd spent the last fifteen minutes scaling. This time, the change in scenery stole her attention away from her thoughts and willed her to take in the sight up ahead.

In a decently sized clearing, a single-story holiday home stood centre stage. It screamed Mediterranean, from its low-pitched tiled roof in a rustic shade of red to its tall and narrow archways over paned windows and dark wooden doors. The exterior walls were an off-white shade and bright green ferns framed the spacious veranda, where two lounging chairs were perched alongside a small cane table and a not so small hot tub. If she hadn't been with Mr Fifteen But Still A Pervert, a relaxing soak in that tub would've been first on the agenda, hands down. Unfortunately, 'relaxation' and 'Marik' hardly went hand-in-hand.

Speaking of Marik, the guy was now ten steps ahead, for once beckoning her over with his whole right hand rather than his index finger alone. For some reason that stood out to her.

As A'isha silently – albeit begrudgingly – approached him, she couldn't help but notice his rigid posture. He actually looked uneasy for once, like a soaked cat stuck outside in a lightning storm. She very briefly entertained the idea of asking what  _he_ was thinking, flipping that silly question around for a change. It only took a second to find that idea absurd, and another three to follow Marik up the few steps that led to the veranda.

She sighed, her brows furling. This place was only another reminder that she'd be spending the night alone with him... again. In that moment, A'isha never thought she'd see the day she'd miss Amara's company—not this much anyway.

Apparently there really was a first time for everything.

She even went so far as to mull over the pros and cons of locking herself in the bathroom until Marik went to bed, embracing what was hopefully her barely-existent inner Amara in the process. Then she reminded herself that eighty percent of Marik's energy supposedly stemmed from his crazy addiction to coffee. Given that, she'd probably be waiting a while. Another idea down the drain.

While she continued to scheme up various other ways of avoiding the jerk, he halted at the front door and slid his backpack off of his shoulder to retrieve his wallet from a side pocket, then fished out a single key from the coin section. The wallet was soon in its former resting place and the bag was on his wetsuit-covered back. One click of the lock later and Marik was easing the door open and—

_SLAM!_

A'isha discovered her inner-snake by nearly leaping from her skin. That was nothing compared to the mortified expression worn by Marik as he gaped at everything and nothing, gripping the door knob so tightly his knuckles had run white.

Marik? Terrified? Zombie Apocalypse in three... two...

"What the heck was that about?"

Marik ignored her as he inched the door open just a fraction, hardly enough to fit his scrawny self through. He slowly sidled inside, staring her down like she'd try to squeeze past him at any moment. Only when he was completely inside did he pop his blond head of hair out the door to say a quick, "Wait here."

"What do you mean wait here—"

The slam of the door cut through her question. A click soon confirmed that he'd locked it too.

A'isha arched a brow as oddly rushed and clumsy steps, along with scuffing and rustling, echoed from inside the home. A muffled bang followed. That did  _not_ sound like Mr Suave Steps. Not one bit.

_What the heck is he hiding?_

All right. Clearly a bit of recon was required here. And so help her, she  _would_  find out what in the name of glorious karma had brought forth such a mortified look from Mr Mostly Calm and Composed.

Determination hardened her gaze as she raced for a paned window a few feet along the veranda. Aaand he'd drawn the curtains on it. One proper glance at every other window in sight confirmed that he'd done the same thing to every curtain. Not at all surprising. The jerk always thought of everything.

A'isha decided to check the windows around the side of the building, hoping they would bear more fruit. With no time to waste, she easily leaped over the wooden fence that lined the edge of the veranda—and after landing on the lush grass with the grace of a space ballerina, she caught herself actually wishing the jerk had been around to see it. Maybe then he'd stop accusing her of being so uncoordinated!

She spotted another tall window and—

Drat.

Another drawn curtain. Apparently some of the ruckus she'd heard had been Marik racing around the place drawing curtains like a headless chicken after guzzling five bottles of Red Bull and double that in speed.

"YOU'RE NOT BEING  _AT ALL_  SUBTLE, MARIK!"

A'isha's arms flailed around in a frenzy, her exasperation plainer than day.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU HIDING!?"

No answer, unless more frantic footsteps counted. She huffed, marching on back to the veranda to irritably fold her arms and slump into the first of two lounging chairs.

_So help me God, if I go in there to find him seductively sprawled out on the bed in his birthday suit with a bouquet of roses covering his crutch, I'm gonna lose it._

The mortified look on her face suddenly rivalled the one he'd worn only moments ago. Maybe even beat it.

_Oh God no. No no no no NO! Now I REALLY don't wanna go in there!_

After a few more minutes of impatient waiting, the click of a lock made A'isha perk up. She sent a pointed look at the door just as it swung open, revealing a lightly panting Marik. Seriously, the guy was almost clinging to the door handle for support—and was still clad in his full body wetsuit that she prayed he'd soon swap out for something  _a lot_  less form fitting. "You… You can come in now," he breathed, then wearily pushed off the doorway and out of sight.

A'isha leaped from her seat to follow him inside, sparing a few seconds to size up her new surroundings. She had quickly learned that Marik was a man of expensive taste, and this place was certainly no exception.

The interior of the building – like the exterior – simply screamed Mediterranean. Its walls were a simple beige shade and the floor was covered in light orange tile, etched with detailed swirls and squares and flicks. The living area, consisting of a generously sized living room and a smaller dining room and kitchen, was very open plan. She could see all three rooms from the entrance, and figured sunlight would sweep over the whole space if Marik hadn't drawn every curtain in sight. Instead, stained glass lamps and overhead lights illuminated every nook and cranny. The colour scheme of the furniture was warm and homely, partial to soft reds and slightly brighter oranges. Expertly carved wooden furniture littered the place, from the antique-esque sofas to the aged coffee tables. The style somewhat reminded her of their hotel room, only more laid back and cosy. The art deco vibe was still there though.

A'isha marched after Marik as he headed down a narrow hallway, every wall covered with canvases not unlike Leonardo Da Vinci's work. "So… care to explain what  _that_ was all about?"

"Not particularly," he lightly answered, easing aside one of the two bulky doors to reveal a generously sized bedroom. The other door must've led to a bathroom.

"You're obviously hiding something."

More ignoring. That did nothing to dampen her frustrations.

Marik sought out one of his two leather bags, nestled away in one corner of the room beside her suitcase. While he was at it, he shrugged out of his bag and dumped it on the floor beside her stuff. She only spent a second wondering who had brought their things here from the hotel, before she was struck by another lovely dose of Deja Vu...

One bed. There was only one freaking bed.

Marik was rummaging through one of his hefty leather bags, so she glared at the back of his head. It wasn't nearly as satisfying.

"Let me guess. I'm sleeping on the couch?"

He paused to glance her way. He wasn't smirking, something she'd come to surmise was more disturbing than the times that he did. "No." The single word was meek and softly spoken, creepy in that it was so very out of character. " _I'm_  sleeping on the couch."

"Come again?"

After rummaging through one of his bags, Marik smoothly rose to his feet and faced her, a pair of dark jeans and a white tank top hanging from his right arm. His face was blank, unreadable. "I said I'm sleeping on the couch."

Marik failed to mention that hadn't always been the plan. In actuality, he'd intended to insist that they share the bed, more for his own amusement. Vexing her was almost always a good time. He would've thrown in a surprise spooning session. She would've sputtered and squawked and flushed ruby red. He would've drawn her closer still—perhaps even pecked her cheek. Oh, it would've been hilarious. No doubt about it.

For one simple reason, he'd opted against it. After she'd lost her temper back on the beach, he had realised he'd be walking a mighty fine line. One misjudgement while baiting his particularly peeved off captive and he might just find himself sterile. Marik very much liked having his balls attached to his body.

Meanwhile, like a gob-smacked goldfish, A'isha's mouth opened and closed. She held up a finger and started to say something, only to realise that whatever she'd tried to say had been garbage. With a clear of her throat, she tried again.

"Are you serious?"

Marik briefly straightened out the shirt draped over his forearm. He hated creases with a passion. "Your first night in our former hotel room was spent on the couch," he said, voice level. "Should I not return the favour?"

"Oh please! You wouldn't know a favour from a farruca!"

She hated the way he grinned at her then. "You mean a Spanish gypsy dance?"

Oh, the damn smart ass. He was like a walking, talking dictionary and he probably spoke Spanish too. "You know what?" she snapped, launching an accusatory finger his way. "You really  _are_  predictable!"  _And yet I STILL walked right into that one!_

"Would you like to shower first?"

"Seriously? I say you're being predictable and you try to be nice. That only proves my point."

"Is that so?"

Ish could tell by the amusement ridden on his face that she was right—at least, about  _why_  he'd offered first shower privileges. Rolling her eyes, she moved over to the bed. She could use a place to plant her tush, given the work out her legs had had today on their silly date.

"Uh, yeah. It's pretty obvious that you're just trying to throw me  _off_ —" Her last word came as an embarrassingly girly scream as she lurched back-first against the bed. And of course, the equally embarrassing sound of Marik cracking up soon followed.

"Holy shit!" she screeched, flailing like a flounder in fondue as she struggled to pull herself upright. "This- This mattress is like the illegitimate lovechild of a cloud and a marshmallow!" That comment, probably inspired by her bestie's weird and obscene sense of humour, only made Marik laugh harder.

After what felt like an eternity and longer still, she finally found solid ground. Unfortunately, it was reached by tucking and rolling off the bed in a far from gracious fashion. A'isha pulled herself off the floor to meet Marik's laughing gaze. She needn't find a mirror to know her cheeks were beet red.

"An illegitimate lovechild of a cloud and a marshmallow?" he asked, raising a brow.

"It- It was just the first description that came to mind!"

"I see," he drawled, despite the way his grin remained. "Was the illegitimacy really necessary?"

"I repeat, first thing that came to mind."

Wearing his trademark smirk, Marik suavely stepped across the room, placed his clean clothes at the end of the bed, and collapsed onto the mattress. It was probably one of the least composed things she'd ever seen him do. Apparently today was a day for seeing Blondie do a ton of atypical things—or rather, normal things by anyone else's standard, but not by hers when referring to him.

Marik? Normal? Laughable at best.

"Damn it. I should've tested it out before I offered it to you."

A'isha's brows soared in disbelief. "You mean you actually  _like_  being devoured by your mattress as you sleep?" She'd laid on his bed back on the launch and that hadn't been super soft, if she recalled.

Marik threw his limbs out ramrod straight and stretched for a full five seconds. The satisfied groan that accompanied the action had her cringing. Any sound Sir Jerk-A-Lot made was some level of disgusting. She decided at that point that the sound of him stretching had to make top five, right up with his arrogant laugh, his I'm-in-control-and-I-know-it voice, his calculated steps and his utterly repulsive Namu voice.

"As a matter of fact, I  _do_  enjoy soft mattresses." Mr High and Mighty looked up at her, his blond locks splayed around him on the black and burgundy sheets. "You, on the other hand, do not seem to favour them. Or mesh with them, for that matter." He chuckled, clearly recalling her lack of poise moments ago. "So how about we trade? The couch for the bed."

A'isha had to wonder if Amara somehow knew of her mattress preference. Had Marik learned that little detail through her and planned to pull this sneaky stunt from the start? He could've read reviews of this place and its guest-gobbling beds on TripAdvisor or something. Maybe he was vainly trying to earn brownie points from her for some strange reason, by making it seem like he was doing her a favour. She shook her head at the jerk, not sure if the action was her unspoken 'no' or a display of disapproval. She decided it was both.

"Marik, have you  _ever_  done a selfless thing in your life?"

"I offered you first shower."

"Really? You're going with  _that_?" She snorted. "That's just sad."

He quirked a brow, still sprawled across the bed. "Do you want to be eaten alive by this mattress or not?"

"Don't you think I deserve a proper bed after everything I've been through?" A stupid question to ask the guy responsible for said things and she knew it. Oh well. He was still the hypocritical one in the room. "Also, the bed's probably still way more comfortable than the couch."

Marik only rolled his eyes.

"What? You've made your bed and now I'm damn well gonna lie in it!"

A'isha realised how poorly constructed that sentence had been the second she saw his perverse smirk. That same smirk only grew upon seeing the rosy red hue of her cheeks. How many times had she made a muppet of herself today? She'd seriously lost count.

"Has our date really gone  _that_  well?"

"When- When I said I'd lie in your bed, I did  _not_ mean it like that and you  _know_  it!"

Marik switched out his smirk for a frown. "Well that's disappointing."

A'isha caught herself bristling at that. "Okay. How many times do I need to point out how freaking repulsive I find you?" Her hands flew to her hips and gripped them hard. "I would  _never ever_ sleep with someone like you and—"

"Someone like me?"

When she saw the smirk he wore, A'isha's brain caught up with her mouth. Of course, he'd been hoping to get a rise out of her and boy, oh boy, had she delivered.

"C'mon! Do I really need to elaborate?"

Marik left the bed with a bucket-load more poise than she had. It only made her scowl ten times stronger. He reached her in five steady steps, only to answer her rhetorical question in true-Marik fashion.

"Oh, please  _do_  elaborate."

Another flippin' thing she'd walked right into. How swell.

"Y-You've kidnapped me!"

His brows rose, a silent request for additional reasons. Like kidnapping her wasn't a valid excuse on its own.

"You've kidnapped my cousin. You've put us through hell. You're a criminal. You're a horrid excuse for a human being. I'm not single. I'm not desperate. I'm not absolutely and undeniably crazy. I'd never subject myself to that kind of torture, even if we were the last two people on the planet and the very survival of humanity was riding on us riding  _each other_!"

Even after the insults she'd thrown in there, Marik still managed a grin that could perhaps even pass for cheeky. He cocked his head a little to the left, his sandy blond hair swaying as he did. Only then did she note he'd gone jewellery-free today.

"Torture?" Marik murmured softly, a look of faux confusion ridden across his face. He resumed his grin shortly after as he leaned in far too close, the warmth of his lips grazing her ear and drawing forth a shiver. "How would you know?" She could just feel his grin grow as he continued, "You've never ridden me, A'isha." The suggestiveness that oozed from his words were cringe-worthy, just like the way he continued to whisper in her ear. "And if there's one thing I hate, it's failing at absolutely anything."

A'isha scoffed with revulsion, shoving him away chest-first. He hardly even stumbled, though fortunately he did create maybe a foot of space between them.

"Tell that to the tree you failed to climb yesterday!" she shrieked, unable to resist rubbing such a valid point in his face. "If you can't even reach the top of a tree, how do you expect to help a girl reach her climax?"

_Am I seriously talking about Creeper McCreeperson's capacity for making a girl—_

A'isha shuddered away the rest of that freaky question.

Marik opened his stupid gob to answer her, only for Ish to throw her hands in the air, waving them about like two white flags of defeat. "I really need to stop asking you rhetorical questions." She turned her back on him, totally not to hide yet another silly blush. "Especially ones as crazy as that." When she spotted her suitcase across the room, she perked up slightly. "Y'know what?" She started stepping toward her things. "I think I'm gonna take you up on that offer for first shower privileges."

"Yearning for a long, hot shower after such a stimulating conversation?"

A'isha sucked in air, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Something about that comment seemed to flip a switch, throwing her past the point of giving a flying frack and bringing about a generous dose of bravado. She spun on her heel, her blue eyes burning right into his. The distance between them shrunk to mere inches in a matter of seconds, for once thanks to her.

"All right then," she started, her voice clear, confident and dripping with snark. "Tell me. If I was to turn around right now and say 'Take me now, Marik! I'm yours!' what would you do? No, really. I'm curious."

Sheer shock swam in his oddly wide-eyes for at least five seconds. Probably among the most satisfying five seconds of her life. Though when he  _did_ catch up with reality, she fell victim to what was unquestionably the biggest grin she'd ever seen from the jerk. Her assertiveness was downright hysterical, apparently.

"I must say, Ish, it's been far too long since I've seen this side of you." Somehow, his smile spread wider still. "I didn't realise how much I've missed it."

Speaking of missing, A'isha didn't miss how he'd stayed rooted to the ground; no invasions of personal space, no leaning forward, no whispers in her ear. She had to wonder if the shocked side of him was responsible for that, perhaps holding him back. That would be a first!

"Quit dancing around the question, Marik."

After a brief chuckle, Sir Jerk-A-Lot's blond brows furrowed as his right hand slid under his chin. He often did that when thinking, she'd learned. That simple fact had A'isha stealing Marik's shock and slapping it straight on her face, along with an ounce of outrage and a dash of distaste.

"You've got to be freaking kidding me?" she barked, going stiff as a board. "You're  _actually_  needing to think this through?!"

Now he was laughing, the sound hearty and honest. "You're giving me way too much credit, Ish."

"So you… you'd actually…"

Marik's countenance changed like the wind, suddenly so serious it almost made her squirm. "Would I accept your offer?" His eyes locked with hers. For a very brief moment, their icy exterior seemed a layer thinner than usual. "On the grounds that this is a hypothetical situation and you would be single and willing..." His next words were so soft the sound alone was enough to frighten her. "Yes, I would take you right now."

A'isha barely noticed the way her brows skyrocketed, eyes bulging like a fruit fly after downing a gallon of coffee. She didn't know what was worse: the admission itself or how he hadn't even smirked yet. He was dead serious, his amethyst eyes so intense she just had to look away. Her visage had fallen victim to something within the realms of alarm and disbelief. Regret soon joined the party.

For the next ten seconds of her life, A'isha was nearly convinced her brain had run on autopilot. One moment she was slack-jawed and staring down at Marik's wetsuit clad chest; the next she was slamming the bathroom door shut faster than one could say 'you're a moron' … and by God was she a  _moron_. The very Queen of Morons!

Oh man. Why? Why had she chosen now of all times to find her damn audacity? Of course, this was exactly what she got for not thinking things through as far as Mr Makes People Squirm was concerned. Had she really dived into that giving him any degree of credit, truly thinking his answer would be the very opposite? There was no way she truly thought that highly of him. She didn't think highly of him, period.

"What the heck was I thinking?" she caught herself whispering, her voice cracking.

Suddenly, A'isha wanted to cry. More than anything, she wanted to cry. She didn't even know why. Was she terrified? Overwhelmed? Confused? That last one stood out to her. The second did, too. To her ever-growing confusion, the most terrifying thing about the first was that she felt terrified for every reason bar the one that made the most sense. Shouldn't she be afraid that he might try to force himself on her? Why was her fear focussing more on the overwhelming confusion that shook her brain around like a snow globe?

And if Marik didn't care, why would he go out of his way to stress that she'd need to be both single and willing?

"He did that on purpose," A'isha breathed, swiftly putting the pieces together while, by some miracle, managing to stay in one piece herself. "By emphasising that I'd need to be single and willing, he's saying he'd never do it while somehow saying the exact opposite." She hated the swell of emotions that realisation thrust forth. The only one she succeeded in identifying was something akin to gratitude, if that was even possible. She was grateful for the fact he'd – what? – cared enough to lessen the blow. She was grateful, on some level, that he'd actually been honest with her. And she was grateful that he seemed to be leaving her alone in the aftermath.

At the same time, A'isha wished he'd downright lied. This did nothing to convince her that he didn't like her.

"Lust doesn't equal love," she quietly reminded herself, echoing words she'd once told an in-denial Amara after the naïve girl had let another sleezeball take advantage of her. Not that A'isha thought Marik loved her. Hell no. She wasn't even convinced that he  _liked_  her; that theory was just an outcome of her overthinking.

But nonetheless, the principle of that saying remained the same. Just because Marik would be up for—err… well, it didn't mean he cared for her; at least not in  _that_  way. He was still The R.H. and had about as much dignity as Amara when high and hammered. Unfortunately, she'd witnessed the latter first hand.

A'isha drawled out a sigh, yearning for the day she'd stop overthinking. Sure, it often helped her to understand her predicaments and therefore helped her to be better prepared for whatever the universe might throw at her; but at the same time, it left her dreading every possible outcome, no matter how ludicrous. That was only extra ammunition for her already soaring stress levels.

Another sigh made her shiver – or had she been doing that this whole time? – as she peeled her back off the bathroom door. She flicked the lock, irked by how much effort something so simple had taken. Her shivering was horrendous—and as much as she hated to admit it after Marik's pervy remark, she really  _was_  eager for a long, hot shower. Anything to ease the nerves.

Speaking of nerves—

A groan spiralled from her lips as an excruciating revelation took hold: her clothes were still in her suitcase.

_Oh great. Now I've gotta endure the good ol' walk of shame to grab my stuff after just hightailing the heck outta there. A'isha, you freaking twat!_

After a minute of hesitation, she eventually flicked the lock, and her hand hovered and quivered over the door handle until her arm actually began to ache. It must've been a good five minutes. At least, it felt like that long. Eventually, she gathered up enough guts to grip the handle, her digits still shaking somewhat. Slowly and carefully, she eased the door aside. Maybe the Irish would lend her some luck and lure Marik far, far away from the bedroom.

"I wish," she muttered, drawing one foot forward and—

_Thump._

With an arch of her brow, A'isha sent a curious glance toward the floor. Her second brow joined the first, raising high up on her head at the sight she beheld. Her suitcase was right outside, zipped up and waiting.

Had he…

Had he cared enough to leave it there? Had he actually avoided some one-sided awkwardness for a change? And had he… oh gosh… had he eavesdropped on her thinking out loud?

With another groan, A'isha reached for her suitcase. She figured she'd have plenty of time to overthink all of those questions and more from the toasty warmth of a shower. Overthinking: among her greatest talents.

* * *

Half an hour later found A'isha slipping into a baggy black shirt and some navy-blue sweatpants with tiny, yellow crescents scattered about them. She realised almost instantly that she must've grabbed pyjama pants back in Marina and just hadn't cared enough to notice. After throwing her towel-dried hair in her trademark bun – loose and high on her head – she threw her wetsuit over a sturdy towel rail and lugged her suitcase back to the bedroom, dumping it beside Mr Vain and Vexing's many bags.

So far, the guy was nowhere to be seen. Maybe the Irish really were on her side.

Whatever the case may be, Ish sure wasn't about to waste the seldom-savoured peace and quiet. She'd used it to catch up on a few Z's. It probably went without saying that she dang well deserved it after the long week she'd had—and that wasn't even taking into account the long day she had ahead of her tomorrow. The Godforsaken Proposition. That was its name now.

Funny thing was… A'isha certainly didn't feel like they'd found that fake spark her equally-fake fiancé so desperately desired for their ruse. If anything, their relationship – or whatever it was – felt ten times more confusing after their trial date. Way to go, Mr I'm So Perfect.

Despite how those notions nibbled away at her mind, A'isha still somehow managed a few winks of sleep, and after an hour-long power nap on the super squishy mattress, she woke up of her own accord. That certainly surprised her. She'd expected Blondie to yank her from a particularly pleasant dream, whining that they still had their fake date to finish.

More surprisingly, Ish had somehow survived the man-eating mattress. She even felt somewhat revitalised.

And perhaps most surprisingly of all, Marik was still M.I.A.

For a few minutes, she wrestled with her bemused thoughts.  _To_  find him? Or  _not_  to find him?

On the one hand, she should really be milking his unforeseen absence for all it was worth. On the other hand, there had to be a reason she hadn't seen him for going on two hours. That had her curious. Was he really being so kind as to give her some much-needed space? Or was she just overthinking again?

Probably the latter.

In any case, curiosity prevailed, willing her to scout out the whole interior of their holiday home. She came up empty-handed. Well, almost empty-handed.

A'isha did come across a few knick-knacks: an English to Italian dictionary, a butt load of blankets, and a few boxes crammed with old books. Oh, and she'd also found a few tracks and traces of Mr High and Mighty interacting with the world around him. Felt kind of like a game of Cluedo, only in real life. The kitchen bench was freshly wiped, suggesting that he'd been prepping something, but the dining table looked untouched, so he hadn't eaten there. The couch looked crease free too, suggesting he hadn't sat there. Or his neat freak ways knew no bounds, going so far as to make him straighten out the creases on the couch after leaving it. Maybe not.

After checking the bathroom, Ish had also noticed a damp towel had been tossed in a bulky wooden hamper tucked away in a corner, and Marik's wetsuit was hanging alongside hers on the towel rail. Relief had filled her in buckets when she'd realised he was finally out of his form-fitting swimwear.

Yep. The Irish were definitely on her side tonight.

The last thing she'd found had been a little bit on the weird side: a red rose petal, fresh and forgotten on a perfectly polished floorboard near the end of the bed. Suddenly, Marik's freak out when they'd arrived made a lot more sense. He must've opened the door, glimpsed some sort of mood-setting honeymooner deco – with roses and candles and who knows what else – and realised he would've found himself sterile in two seconds flat if she'd seen it. (Okay; maybe that's an exaggeration, but you can probably get a picture.)

A'isha had to wonder if he'd booked it intentionally or not. Maybe he had, but had since come to his senses. Or he'd chickened out. The latter seemed way more likely, given Mr Sun Shines Outta His Ass believed he could do no wrong. Or rather, that the unspoken rights and wrongs of society didn't apply to him.

_Not that it matters…_

A'isha soon found herself heading to the one place she  _hadn't_ checked yet: a deck that branched off from their bedroom, half hidden behind a bunch of wooden blinds. After drawing aside the blinds, she stepped through the sliding door and out onto the semi-faded wood of the deck.

Marik was there.

In an instant, A'isha questioned the sigh of relief she'd just breathed, only to dismiss it two seconds later. Instead, she surveyed her new scenery. Funnily enough, the first thing she noticed was the way her company was sitting: splayed out on a lounging chair in a pretty unceremonious fashion—for him, at least. Maybe it was just that the guy usually sat so proper, his legs criss-crossed and his back straight (aside from that one time in the kitchen of his launch, late at night before watching half of Star Trek in his room). Tonight, however, his legs were stretched out and hanging over each side of the chair, and his posture was slumped and lazy.

Faded blues and purples and oranges danced across his caramel skin; the ghost of a sunset she could only imagine had been breath-taking. All that was left was a speck of sun peeking out over a paper smooth ocean, painting the sapphire sea a few shades darker than usual. From the front of this place, she hadn't even realised it was right near a cliff—perfect for sunset watching.

A'isha hardly registered her slight smile as she savoured what little serenity she could in Marik's presence. There were the soft songs of birds in the nearby coastal forest; the shimmers of the calm sea down below; the slight swish of leaves in the crisp winter breeze. None of it seemed right, considering that her company was her creepy kidnapper.

Movement caught her eye. Only then did she notice the hefty wine glass in Marik's right hand. He absently rolled it around his palm, ignoring the way the ruby contents lapped around in the bowl. Her eyes swept across the large cane table that separated them, topped with a box of fancy-looking chocolates, an assortment of savoury dishes, and a near empty bottle of merlot. That last one made her grimace.

Alcohol always had that effect on her, hurling her through a multitude of memories that were better left buried. Memories of her cousin staggering through the front door, giggling one moment and gagging the next; of her aunt's handprint streaking her cheek red, the blonde bitch's breath wreaking of wine and whiskey as she spat another string of dirty insults her way; of a life she'd never had the chance to live, after one man's mistake to toss back countless shots at a Christmas party before stumbling behind the wheel.

"Bad experience with wine?"

A'isha didn't miss the sarcastic lilt to the query. In fact, it only made the distaste on her face more apparent. Avoiding his intense scrutiny, she looked to her immediate right and far away from him. Boy, was that bush interesting; all green and poufy and—

When Marik's scoff sliced through the serenity, she couldn't help but tense. Apparently, he was even more of an ass after a few. Wonderful.

Ish had to admit, it had her tempting the thought of ripping that stupid wine glass right out of his hand. She knew better. He was the kidnapper, assuming authority and demanding respect. If she snatched that glass from those mind-screwing hands of his, Marik would definitely lose his cool.

"I'm assuming your distaste for it doesn't just stem from the fact little Amara gets inebriated every other weekend."

That little jab only took her back to the night she'd learned his name, throwing more fuel on the flames of fury that burned within her mind. If her damn cousin hadn't stolen her money to get sloshed that night, she would've had something to pay the bus driver—and probably wouldn't even be in this situation.

"Amara's easily influenced," A'isha muttered. "She's a pushover with everyone  _but_  the ones she ought to listen to."  _That is, the ones that truly care._

"You and Ahad?"

A'isha answered him with a frown, though she did pluck a dinner roll from a small plate near her end of the table. It was the only thing within arm's reach. She absently picked away at it, realising at about the same time that she wasn't really in the mood for food. Nonetheless, she forced herself to stomach it. If she didn't eat something, she'd only regret it later.

Marik had only answered her silence with his own. He proceeded to roll the base of the wine glass around in his palm, lazily swirling its contents, before taking another sip. She watched as he savoured the strong taste, slowly whirling the contents around his mouth. If her mood had been halfway decent, she might've found herself snorting back a laugh at the weirdo.

"You and Amara," Marik murmured a moment later. "You're polar opposites." He was eyeing the glass as an afterthought. "Why is that?"

"I doubt this is the first time you've wondered why Mar and I are so different."

"Correct."

"Then let's hear the verdict."

"Elissa was a lot more involved in raising Amara than she was in raising you." Another sip. "Ahad is a lot more invested in you than Elissa, despite how you've previously suggested he's too easily influenced by your aunt to defend you from her." This time he took a generous gulp, downing the rest of the glass. "Though to me, Ahad's investment in you and Elissa's lack of it… Those two factors don't seem like enough to produce such a contrast between you and your cousin."

A'isha sought out another dinner roll, if for no other reason than to fill her face with food rather than filling the gaps in Marik's conclusion. That didn't stop her mind from wandering six months in the past.

* * *

**-flashback start-**

* * *

"Crab nuggets!"

A'isha arched a curious brow as she swung her locker open. "What is it, Atia?" She glanced at the teal-eyed girl to her right, immediately noting the look of complete and utter terror upon her lightly tanned face.

Forever the drama queen, Atia gripped her auburn hair hard as she squawked out a student's worst nightmare. "I forgot to do my homework!" Okay. Maybe not the worst of the worst, but it still made top five as far as a student was concerned.

A'isha bit back a laugh at the most hyperactive member of her friend group. "Which class?" she asked, fishing a bulky schoolbook out of her locker to dump it in the largest compartment of the leather backpack at her feet.

"History!" Atia squeaked, like a helpless, wee mouse being thrown before a starved cat. "Oh man! Ms Searle is gonna kill me!" She slumped against the nearest locker, two along from Ish's.

A'isha's amusement had quickly turned to empathy. She'd been late to the surly woman's class on more than one occasion, courtesy of Amara's ridiculous beautifying rituals and poor time management. She wouldn't even start on her cousin's dreadful lack of accountability. "Okay," she began, clearly on a mission as she rummaged through her backpack while the red-head watched on. "This doesn't exactly help you learn history and you know I wouldn't normally do this," she mumbled, withdrawing another tedious book to hold out to the startled girl, "but I know first-hand how horrible Ms Searle can be and I wouldn't wish that upon anyone."

Atia blinked twice, barely registering the book Ish had since coaxed between her fingers. "You- You're letting me copy your homework?!" she suddenly burst out, stealing the attention of every other student in a twenty-foot radius.

In an instant, A'isha was cringing like crazy and blushing beetroot red. "Scream it from the rooftops, why don't you?" she whispered, shying away from the nosy stares of their peers—especially the ones that leaned in to whisper to a friend, probably muttering something nasty or giving birth to a lovely rumour.

"S-Sorry," Atia stuttered, no doubt cursing her obnoxiously loud-mouth; something the girl did on the daily. "I just- I mean, are you sure?"

A'isha nodded, offering a small smile to emphasise that she was fine with it. "Just don't make it a regular thing, okay?"

"I won't!" Atia exclaimed, returning her nod with a far more fervent one. She clutched the book to her chest like a signed poster of One Direction and grinned like a goof. "Oh my gosh! Thank you SO freaking much, Ish! I totes owe you one—no, make that five! Five what? I don't know, but I owe you five of em!"

A'isha snickered at Atia's antics. The blonde highlights in the girl's otherwise auburn hair were pretty dang fitting, considering her ditsy ways. "Hey, don't sweat it," she said, slapping a dismissive hand through the air. "Just be subtle about it." Ish gave their surroundings a once over, ensuring no adults were in sight. "So, um, y'know? Make sure no teachers are around to see you scribbling down the answers."

Atia's right hand flew to her forehead in an overzealous salute, while her left maintained a firm grip on A'isha's history book. "Understood, Miss Perfect Hair! I'll learn the ways of the ninja and get this here book back to ya lunchtime!"

A'isha laughed and clicked her locker shut, throwing her backpack over her shoulders soon after. Atia, on the other hand, worked on storing her friend's schoolbook in her own purple backpack—also on the floor, propped against a locker.

"Speaking of ninjas," Atia announced, shrugging into her bag, "I think I'm gonna zip off to the bathroom before the bell rings in, like, a minute." She made a start toward the ladies' room a little way along the corridor. "You'll be at the picnic tables at lunchtime, right?"

"'Course."

"Sweet!" Atia chirped. "See ya then!"

With that, Atia dashed through a door with a generic female restroom symbol, while A'isha turned on her heel to head for her third class of the day: French with Mr Hendricks.

Two seconds past before the school bell blared, prompting the masses to pick up the pace, slamming locker doors and dashing this way and that along the corridor. She'd barely taken ten steps when a resounding slam echoed through the hall, hushing everyone in the vicinity for all of two seconds.

"M-Miss Perfect Hair!"

A'isha froze, instantly hearing the underlying panic in that voice. She stared over her shoulder, immediately spotting the red-head racing her way. A few other girls left the restroom in said red-head's wake, apprehension twisting their features. That only heightened A'isha's curiosity.

"Ish! Ish!" she panted, screeching to a sudden halt before the girl in question. "The- The bathroom!" She prodded her pointer finger toward the door she'd just dashed through. "There's a- You know? Am-Amarillo! She's-"

"Just spit it out, Art!" A'isha tore through her words, alarm lacing every syllable of her own. "What's The Tank doing?"

"She- She's all riled up! A-Amara's got a freaking death wish!"

A'isha sucked in air; cold, clammy hands of dread clamped down on her. In a split second, her protective older cousin instincts kicked in. "Go get a teacher!" she shrieked, already halfway to the restroom door. "I'll stall this shitfest before it hits the fan!"

"R-Right! Got it!" Atia called back, nodding thrice before making a mad dash down the corridor.

A'isha rammed the door aside, then another, and soon rushed into the bland, faintly odorous, but rather spacious white-tiled bathroom, with its three sinks and five cubicles. She swiftly spotted the ever-staunch Amarillo looming over her whimpering cousin across the way. Her violently loud entrance must've stolen their attention, for two steely grey eyes were quickly slicing through her.

With a narrowed gaze, A'isha boldly stood her ground. If she could take Elissa's crap every day, facing The Tank was child's play. "What's going on here?" she asked, maintaining a calm exterior shell.

Naturally, Amara piped up first. "I- I was just touching up my makeup and this craz—"

"Amarillo," A'isha announced, cutting her cousin short before she could start name-calling the brute. That wouldn't do the ditsy girl any favours. "What's your beef with Amara?"

Amarillo's glare was fierce, her pale skin further pronounced by the black of her leather pants and jacket, complete with silver studs and spikes. Ol' Tamarillo had always gone for a gothic look, which was probably why her face was caked with dark makeup and her hair was black, short and spikey; the tips bearing a faint blue sheen beneath the artificial lights of the restroom.

"I'm jus' teachin' your dipshit cousin some fucking manners," Amarillo hissed, her voice uber deep for a female's.

A'isha latched onto that. "What did she do this time?" she groaned, not only hoping to buy Atia some time, but also to think up a way to get Amara out of here safe and sound. If she could only clear the way for Mar to make a mad dash for the exit…

Speaking of Amara, her trap was currently sealed shut, no doubt out of terror. Amarillo, on the other hand, answered Ish's question without a care.

"This fucking slut", she shoved Amara once, prompting A'isha to steal a step forward, "was calling me all sorts of names the other day with all her dipshit friends." She sneered at the older of the cousins. "But of course she turns into a blubbering little bitch when she's got no bimbo-ass friends to hide behind." She turned to Amara, curling her thick fingers around the girl's shoulders to push and hold her firmly against the tiled wall. "Ain't that right, you lil' cock-gobbler?"

Amara looked about ready to bawl, her hazel eyes skittering across the dirt-smudged floor. Meanwhile, A'isha's eyes narrowed to slits. There were very few things that  _really_  rubbed her the wrong way: insulting her loved ones was one of them; picking on and overpowering those weaker than themselves was another.

"Hey!" A'isha growled, taking three steps forward, though making sure to veer off toward the sinks and away from the exit. Amarillo's eyes followed her the whole time. "Only I'm allowed to pick on Ms Vanity over there. Why don't you pick on someone half your size instead of someone a damn quarter of it?"

Amarillo snorted, her digits digging harder into Amara's bare shoulders. The girl winced in response, and Ish was sure she caught the sheen of a tear on her cousin's tanned cheek.

"Fuck off, Sister Slut!" Amarillo barked, her glare hardening another notch.

"Afraid I'll kick your ass?" That was a straight-up bluff and Ish knew it, but as long as it lured Amarillo away from Amara, she didn't care.

To her chagrin, The Tank only chuckled. "A little pipsqueak like you? Ha! What? Do ya think I won't touch you 'cause you're the chick that sucks off Dani Wyatt's tiny cock?"

This time, A'isha  _did_  roll her eyes. "You know it's hard to take offense to things that aren't true."

"Oh? So you  _jerk off_  his tiny cock, then?" she spat, kindly going so far as to demonstrate exactly what that would look like with her stubby fingers.

"For Pete's sake, you're being ridiculous!" A'isha cried, arms flying to stress her point. "Why don't you just take a whizz and head to class?"

"For Pete's sake?" Amarillo muttered, arching an amused brow. "What a fucking pussy. You can't even say fuck."

"I only save that lovely ol' word for extremely infuriating people," she stated, flashing a sweet smile. "Sorry to say it, but you don't make the cut."

Amarillo's ashen face twisted into an unsettling, malicious look. "Oh yeah?" A'isha tensed as The Tank roughly shoved Amara against the wall, like some silent reminder not to mess with her. As if this whole ordeal hadn't (hopefully) accomplished the same thing.

A strangled gasp left the trembling girl's lips, only for relief to flood through her by the gallon as the brute's sausage fingers left her shoulders, instead curling into fists at her side, while Amara sunk to the floor. Amarillo spun on her heel to face A'isha, her steely grey eyes honing in on the shorter teen's narrowed, blue ones.

"Well," The Tank jeered, "I'd just  _love_  to make that cut."

Amarillo took slow, purposeful steps toward A'isha, each and every one reminding her of a ravenous lioness stalking its prey, preparing to pounce. For every step the fruitloop took forward, A'isha took one back, thanking whoever designed the decently sized bathroom. The benches – with simple, white sinks built into them – were still around ten feet away.

"Is that so?" A'isha returned, miraculously without a stutter. "Well, a whopping  _one_  person has made the cut so far, so good luck." Ish left five feet of wiggle room between her and the benches behind her. She had a sneaking suspicion she'd soon need to call upon her dancing prowess in the form of a side-step or two, evading a monstrous fist.

As Amarillo closed what little space remained between them, A'isha realised they'd never actually stood so close before. At five-foot nine, she considered herself pretty tall for a female. Amarillo had at least a head on her, freakishly tall by comparison. Fighting the fear she refused to show, she resisted the urge to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

"What? Got nothin' else to say, Sister Slut?"

"Surely you can think up something besides Sister Slut," A'isha dared, bending her legs at the knee and readying herself for a furious fist.

Before dealing the final verbal blow, Ish's pointer finger alone – currently at her side – gestured toward the exit. Amarillo was too close to notice. Amara wasn't. From the corner of A'isha's eye and over The Tank's shoulder, she caught Mar straighten from her slump against the wall. For once in her life, her clueless cousin was  _actually_  taking a hint.

"Come on,  _Tamarillo_ ," A'isha stated the nickname her challenger loathed so passionately. "Let's hear what else you've go—"

A pasty fist spiralled through the air, hurling straight for her face. She swiftly spun to the right and out of reach, and relief soon greeted her ears in the form of Amara's small feet slapping against tile, followed by the  _woosh_  of the bathroom door flying open.

A'isha dodged another fist, stumbling a few steps back to collide with a bench.

"Fucking Twinkle Toes!" Amarillo hissed, glaring daggers her way. "There's another damn nickname for ya!"

"Well, now you're just ripping off Toph from Avatar," Ish taunted, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Should I start calling you The Boulder?"

The Tank stomped toward her at full speed, her quivering fists at the ready. A'isha assumed her bent knees, prepping for another swipe… until a commotion of another sort stole her attention. Amara squawking at someone outside. Atia's panicked voice followed. Then Mr Hendricks'—

A'isha sucked in air, suddenly registering the knuckle sandwich blurring through the air to greet her face. She'd barely begun another side-step when a sharp, splitting pain seemed to slice her head in two. A cry shot through her lips. She barely heard it. Everything spun. And before she'd even collided with the grimy floor, all had faded to black.

* * *

A'isha slowly came to. All she felt was a dull, aching thud in her skull. She groaned, then stirred slightly. Suddenly, that same thud roared to life, gifting her with a far more pronounced headache that shot waves of pain through her whole head, right down to her neck.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Loony."

A'isha needn't pry her eyes apart to know the owner of that voice was her British bestie, but she did it anyway. It took a few blinks and groans, but her blurry vision soon cleared, adjusting to the blindingly white light of wherever she was.

"Here."

Julie leaned into her line of sight. She glimpsed something in the brunette's pale, freckly hand; then gasped as something ice-cold came in contact with her temple, crackling at the slightest movement.

"Hakuna your tatas, Ish. It's just a bag of peas."

A'isha snorted at that. "Really? The school can't even spare a proper ice pack." She'd meant for that to sound way more sarcastic and way less sour than it had.

"According to the nurse, they've already used them on all the sorry saps out participating in Athletics Day." She snorted, forever the teaser. "You really picked a great day to dance with the she-devil." Ish winced as her friend pressed the pack a little more firmly against her temple. "Sorry, Ishy Poo," she murmured, slackening her grip a smidge.

A'isha sighed, fidgeting where she laid. After giving the room a once over, she realised she was in the school sickbay, tucked beneath the crisp white sheets of a single bed. To her left were three beds identical to her own, while a door occupied the wall across from her, and a wooden shelf stood opposite the first bed to her left. Julie was currently crouched down beside her bed, kneeling on the off-white carpet, though A'isha figured the girl had previously been occupying the simple chair to the right of her bed, tucked away in one corner of the room.

"Dumb question," Julie stated, maintaining a fairly firm grip on the makeshift ice pack. "How're you feeling?"

"Like the disgruntled lovechild of Chuck Norris and Mr T falcon punched me, round house kicked me, maybe stomped on my skull a little…"

"Poor doodums," Julie cooed, her lips splitting into a bright grin. "Give it a week and that bloody great big bruise will only be obvious from five feet away."

"Gee, Jules," A'isha gushed, sarcasm ringing from every word. "You always know just what to say."

"Gotta make myself useful somehow."

A'isha smiled at her, and tried to shake her head against the pillow. Regret filled her instant when the movement only shot a stronger wave of pain through her skull.

"Err… Yeah…" Julie drawled, observing the way A'isha's features twisted in misery. "Prolly best to stay still for now."

"No kidding," she mumbled, while her mind wandered back to her encounter in the school bathroom. At any other time, a lovely combo of ire and embarrassment would've racked her already-writhing brain, thanks to her stubbornness and pride. Instead, concern cut in line. "Is Amara okay?"

Julie rolled her eyes. "Of course that's your first question," she muttered, despite the small smile she showed. "Physically speaking, she's fit as a fiddle." The Brit switched out her smile for a smirk. "Mentally speaking, was she ever okay?"

"Good point." Ish's eyes slid shut, shielding them from the glaring, fluorescent lights overhead. "Wanna fill me in on all the important stuff?" She grimaced. "And can you please remove the ice-pack for a mo? Feels like I'm in a slushy guzzling contest."

Julie snorted, but obliged nonetheless. "Okay… Well… Dani's stuck at Athletics Day, but he's super pissed at ol' Tamarillo and is insisting on updates every other second despite having very limited access to his cell."

A'isha chuckled, only to flinch. Even that stressed her dang headache. "Sounds about right. How's Mr World-Champ-In-Training doing so far? Any medals yet?"

"Gold in long jump, high jump, discus throw  _and_  the two hundred meters. Last I heard, he was heading off to kick ass at shotput." She heard Jules snort with amusement. "You know, I think his nickname's become a bit outdated. How 'bout we trade it for The Daninator?"

"I dunno," A'isha drawled, biting back another literally painful laugh. "The multiple N's make it a bit of a tongue twister."

"Well I'll scrounge up something and keep you posted," Julie said, probably simpering. Ish's eyes were still closed. "Anywho, back to the update. Atia and Tamzin are currently on gossip control. Amara was here for a while, but I went all protective bestie on her butt and had her go back to class. Figured she'd prolly make your head hurt ten times more." Jules certainly wasn't wrong. "Oh, and the school couldn't get a hold of Ahad – guy's prolly in a meeting or something – and Elissa's apparently caught up with whatever and can't come to get you." She scoffed. "If Mar was in your shoes, I bet she'd be halfway here on her broomstick by now."

That got A'isha laughing, then wincing, before finally groaning in self-pity. She was grateful when Julie pressed the bag of peas to her temple once more, easing the ache a smidge. "So I'm stuck here 'til they get a hold of Ahad, then?"

"Yeah right, Mumma Hughes is coming to getcha." That had to be the highlight of A'isha's day, despite the circumstances. "Turns out Ahad has her listed as an alternative contact for situations like these. Of course she dropped whatever she was doing at work – well, unless she was holding a newborn 'cause that woulda been a bit awkward – and she left the preschool in two seconds flat."

A'isha had to smile. Gosh, she loved Maria. The ever-selfless woman was the closest thing she had to a mother. She had been since they'd met, back on her first day of preschool. She'd introduced Ish to her crazy daughter that day, and the two toddlers had hit it off from the get go, bonding over slides and Barney and picture books. Maria had always been there for her, more than her own caregivers ever had.

Within weeks, Maria had even recognised A'isha's fervent distaste for the pink, second-hand, frou-frou dresses Elissa always used to make her wear. She'd driven Ish and Jules to the mall to pick out a brand-new wardrobe consisting of whatever style caught the young girl's eye, and so began her colourful get ups, pink excluded. Of course, Elissa would've blown five gaskets upon discovering this, so Maria had kept the new outfits in her own home. Ish had worn them at every given opportunity, which turned out to be quite often, for Julie's house had more or less become A'isha's second home—and felt more like her only one.

Three quick knocks yanked A'isha from her reminiscing. Her eyes slid open to stare at the door. "Hey, Troublesome Twosome?" She recognised that chirpy British accent in a millisecond. "It's Mumma Hughes. May I come in?"

"That depends," Julie called back, a wry smile lining her lips. "Do you come bearing scones?"

A clucky laugh sounded from beyond the door; it eased open soon after to reveal a stick-thin, middle-aged woman with distinct smile lines, gentle olive-green eyes and the same chocolate brown hair as her daughter; the only difference was that hers was drawn up into a high, stubby ponytail. She wore a baby blue polo shirt and three-quarter jeans—both splotched with paint and ink and grubby fingerprints. On her feet were once-white sneakers that had long since been stained brownish grey by bark and mud.

"I swear, Jules," Maria started as she marched into the room, "it's like you think I'm a walking, talking bakery."

"Ask and you shall sometimes receive," Julie stated theatrically.

"'I want, never gets'," Maria shot back, simpering as her daughter rolled her eyes. She plonked herself down at the end of Ish's bed, sliding her worn, leather handbag from her shoulder to her lap. "Now, Jules, why don't you head back to class? I've got things from here."

"The Queen has spoken," Julie announced, that same wry smile stretching. "Take this then, will ya?" She nodded toward the bag of peas still pressed to A'isha's temple. Maria obliged, setting her bag aside to scoot up the bed. The bag crackled loudly as the older woman took over the arm-aching task.

Julie quickly grabbed her backpack from beneath the single chair in the room and tossed it over her shoulder, then lugged her trumpet case off of the floor. "Feel better soon, Ishy Poo." She headed for the still-open door. "I'll see you after school?"

Maria nodded. "Yes, I'll be taking her back to ours." She smirked. "Wouldn't want The Wicked Witch exacerbating her headache."

With a laugh of agreement and a brief wave, Julie bid the duo a bubbly farewell, quietly clicking the door shut behind her.

A'isha caught Maria sigh, any semblance of a smile slowly fading to a frown. "So who's the sorry sap that I need to use my can of whip ass on?"

"Amarillo," A'isha grumbled, observing as Maria's expression shifted from one of calm ire to mild disbelief. She might've also looked impressed.

"I didn't know you had a death wish," she teased, earning a snort of amusement from the teen.

"Let's just say Amara needs to learn how to pick her enemies." A'isha frowned, doubtful she'd ever see the day that happened. "She's fine, though. Got outta the whole ordeal scot-free, unless a little smudged makeup and a temporarily tainted rep counts."

Maria shook her head disapprovingly. "Goodness, that girl worries me." She took a moment to adjust her grip on the bag, concern clear on her rather freckly face. "But enough about her. How are you feeling? Can you sit up?"

A'isha moved a few inches, only for a fresh pulse of pain to slash through her skull. She collapsed back against the thin pillow. "Can I move without feeling like my head's being torn in two? Not really." Her frown faltered. "Other than that, I'm fine. If anything's battered and bruised, it's my pride."

Maria offered a reassuring smile. "You were protecting your cousin. I wouldn't expect anything less from you." Her smile faded. "It's just a shame things turned out the way they did."

For a moment, A'isha wondered if Maria was referring to her encounter with Amarillo, or something greater than that. It was no secret that the woman loathed Elissa and the way the cow mistreated her. There was a minute of silence as that thought occupied her mind.

Eventually, Maria broke it. "You know, Ish… I see a lot of myself in you." Her words were oddly soft, barely above a whisper. "I've always been the protective older sister; the punching bag for Susan's mistakes; the one who always cares too much."

A'isha hated the way the woman's green eyes glistened, tears threatening to show.

"When my father passed, my mother was just… just broken. I knew she was depressed. She barely took care of herself, let alone Susan and me. I ended up feeling like the glue holding everything together, while barely keeping together myself. It was exhausting… just  _so_ exhausting. Susan was barely twelve when I found a condom wrapper in her school bag, and vodka and cigarettes in her underwear drawer. She was rude and rebellious and all she ever told me was how much she hated me, how much she hated our family."

Tears snaked down her pale cheeks, gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights overhead. Unbeknownst to A'isha, Maria wasn't the only one welling up.

"I felt like I'd failed," Maria continued, her words shaky. "More than anything, I felt like I'd failed. But that wasn't the worst part. No, the worst part was that by striving to be the difference between my family sticking together or falling apart, I felt like there was no one to turn to when things became too much for  _me_ to handle. In spite of the way Susan was acting, I knew she depended on my strength to stay strong herself. My mother did, too. If I confided in either of them, I'd only extinguish the hope I'd tried so hard to keep alive. Everyone else? They didn't understand—and if they did, I'd be a burden… But then… then I met Gregory."

Maria straightened, joy overpowering the sorrow strewn across her countenance.

"Gregory  _did_ understand. He'd been through a similar ordeal when his mother had cheated and his parents divorced. His strength and love – as sappy as that sounds – gave me the hope I needed to endure. If I hadn't met him, I'm not sure where I'd be today—or where my family would be. All I know is that we wouldn't be even remotely as happy as we are now."

A'isha sucked in a shaky breath as Maria's left hand settled atop her own, while her right slackened its hold on the bag of peas.

"A'isha, you may not realise it, but you're the glue holding Amara's life together. She cares a great deal about you, even if she absolutely sucks at showing it. For that poor girl, you  _are_ her hope. Probably the  _only hope she has_  of never going off the rails so far that she can't get back on track."

And just like that, A'isha's head screamed as she turned into a blubbering mess, all while thanking whoever invented waterproof mascara. Maria had basically voiced the very thing A'isha feared most: failing her cousin, letting her fall off the rails with no hope of redemption, seeing her sink into a sorrowful pit from which she'd never return.

Like always, a Hughes had her back – or in this case, her hand, for she was still lying down. Maria squeezed her hand gently, her own sobs merging with A'isha's like a sad symphony.

"Ish, I'm sure that deep down you already know all of this, but I need to tell you anyway… No one can take on the many struggles of life on their own—and that's okay. If you need someone to talk to – Me, Julie, Greg, even the two boys – we're all here for you. You're a part of the family and we love you so much. All we want is for you to be happy and, by golly gosh, you deserve that much. No matter where life takes you, I  _never_  want you to forget that."

Sniffling and sobbing, A'isha slid her free hand from where it laid on her stomach and smeared a few tears from her cheeks, then rubbed her eyes. "Th-Thank you, Maria." There was so much more she wanted to say, yet she simply couldn't find the words. Knowing Maria, she didn't need to. The woman could read her just as well as her daughter could—perhaps even better.

"Now then," Maria stated through a sigh, discarding the bag of peas and releasing A'isha's hand to wipe away her own tears. "Moving onto a lighter topic, when you  _are_  feeling up to sitting", she sought out her handbag, "I've got a batch of raspberry raisin scones for you. Just baked em this morning."

Maria withdrew a large, slightly steamed-up Tupperware container from her bag and shook it briefly. Within it were around a dozen perfectly prepped scones. It was A'isha's favourite recipe, world famous in the Hughes family (as they often liked to say).

The teen sniffed, sure she would've inhaled the sweet scent of freshly baked scones had she not just been bawling her eyes out. Her dang nose was a little runny. "But I… I thought you told Jules—"

"If Julie gets clobbered by The Tank,  _then_ she'll get her very own batch to herself." Maria hesitated, a thought occurring to her. "Don't tell her I said that, though. She'll peeve the girl off on purpose, knowing her."

A'isha snickered. "My lips are sealed." She hesitated, wishing to say something after the woman's speech just now. "An-And Maria?"

"Yes, Ish?"

"Thank you for introducing me to Julie all those years ago." A'isha's bottom lip quivered again, another wave of tears clawing at her eyes. "Seriously." She smiled despite herself. "You're the Gregory in my life. The most caring person I know… and I really can't thank you enough for it."

Maria beamed at that, looking about ready to cry all over again. "Well, Ishy Poo." She squeezed her hand again. "Like mother, like daughter…"

* * *

**-flashback end-**

* * *

"You really do have a flair for overthinking."

A'isha blinked back to reality. Why was her vision so blurry?

"The tears, though… they're a first."

Oh. That was why.

A'isha immediately stared right, refusing to wipe away the tears. As silly as it sounded, irrefutably admitting to their existence by smearing them from her face sounded slightly more pride-battering than leaving them to air dry. At least, in front of Sir Jerk-A-Lot.

From the corner of her eye, A'isha glimpsed the glow of the moon across the tranquil sea. The dark of night had swallowed the sky like a cloak, dotting faintly blinking stars across the heavens. No sunset in sight. She must've been thinking for a while—and without interruption, no less.

"Or perhaps you've simply been better at hiding such feelings this past week," Marik continued. His voice was level, calm, and without a hint of arrogance. Yet, his words suggested otherwise. "I doubt that's hard for you, tonight notwithstanding." She heard him laugh, though there was no real joy to the sound. "Elissa has forced you to do it for years."

The  _slosh_  of liquid swirling around a bottle irked her almost as much as his words. How true they were irked her the most. A'isha's eyes snapped his way, tears be damned.

"What would you know about feelings?" she cried, loathing the way her voice shook. "All you ever feel is the need to belittle everyone else around you, to treat them like the damn dirt you stand on or puppets to do your bidding as they appease your sick, twisted desire for control!"

Her anger evaporated the second she truly took in the sorry sight before her, still slumped in that lounging chair. Marik had swapped out his wine glass for a whole damn bottle. One was still on the table, not a drop left within it, and the one he currently clutched was half gone, too. A'isha should've felt afraid of how he might handle the stuff—or rather, how it might handle him. Instead, as she observed the pang of sorrow that twisted his features, all she could think to feel was pity.

Marik said nothing.

That simple fact had her shrinking in her seat, guilt plaguing her mind as it whispered thoughts from mere hours ago. Marik  _could_  feel. Really feel.

A'isha needn't look no further than his face in that moment to know that was true.

"I… I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be." His answer was immediate, yet his voice was barely above a whisper. The words that followed were softer still, just like his countenance as he gazed out at the blackened sky. "You're right."

Marik didn't even give her a chance to shake the shock that admission brought forth. He all but slammed the wine bottle upon the table, apparently having misjudged the distance between the two objects. It wobbled twice, stealing a gasp from the blond, before he fretfully gripped the bottle.

"Stay," Marik ordered, jerking a stern finger at it. His gaze shifted then, settling on A'isha. He shocked her with a hearty grin, plain as day, smack bang on his face. "Now if you'll excuse me, Ishy Wishy, I need to go take a leak."

A'isha might've just laughed, had she not been too busy questioning reality right that second. Marik ordering inanimate objects to stay put, not to mention announcing his need to use the little boy's room? It didn't seem plausible outside of some really weird dream.

Oddly uncoordinated steps echoed off the wooden deck as Marik made haste toward the sliding door, right behind A'isha. That was when a rather disturbing thought came to mind.

"Uhh… Marik…"

The steps stopped.

"Please don't miss the bowl."

"Actually, I planned on sitting down."

A'isha deadpanned at his blunt honesty. "Woah. T.M.I."

"You brought it up."

"Just go take a whizz before you wet yourself."

"With immense pleasure," he dramatically proclaimed.

She caught herself biting down on her bottom lip, narrowly suppressing a yelp of laughter. Once his clumsy steps faded and the click of the bathroom door met her ears, she finally burst out into a giggle fit. Suddenly, being stuck in Catania with Mr High and Mighty didn't seem quite so terrible.

 _Just don't go getting used to this, Ish,_ she warned herself, while her smile switched out for a scowl.  _He's just drunk. Tomorrow he'll be sober, hungover and even more of an asshole than usual._

As if she didn't have enough reasons to hate December twenty third. Now she had a particularly jerky Sir Jerk-A-Lot to look forward to tomorrow, too.

_Peachy. Just peachy._


	26. Chapter 25: Intoxication

**Chapter Twenty Five: Intoxication**

A'isha stared at a ceiling dyed black by night's touch, silk sheets wrapped around her restless frame. A silhouette of shapes made up most of the bedroom furniture, the only form of light stemming from the huge, milky moon that hung unseen beyond thick curtains. Its soft glow slipped through a gap in the maroon cloth, casting a faint triangular light upon the polished floorboards. She couldn't be bothered leaving the bed to fix it.

She hated to admit it, but the squishy mattress was really starting to grow on her. Or was  _she_  growing into the mattress? Well, whatever the case may be, that thought was one of the least poignant reveries to swirl around her brain these past few hours.

While Marik had taken a whiz, A'isha had decided to call it night—partly to avoid her trolleyed company, mostly because she was spent. And considering what day it was tomorrow, she'd need every wink of sleep she could get.

It was typical, really. Three hundred and sixty-five days in a year and Marik just  _had_  to have her portray Lady Jerk-A-Lot on the day that meant the most to her. In a matter of hours – or was it already past midnight? – it would be December twenty third. Sixteen years since her parents' passing; sixteen years since she'd been shoved into Elissa's evil clutches; two years since the date had become bittersweet.

A sudden hum tore through the muffled chirps of crickets, the insects perched unseen on the twisted arms of coastal trees, amidst shrubs or under hefty rocks. She recognised that sound as the water pump, and knew then that Marik was wrapping up his third bathroom break.

_Well, that's my cue._

She heaved an exhausted sigh, rolling around beneath the sleek sheets, shifting from her back to her side. Complete darkness swept over her sight as she slid her eyes shut and focused on her breathing, ensuring every inhale and exhale was steady, heavy and convincingly sleep-esque.

Every time Marik walked – more like  _floundered_  – through the room, A'isha pretended to be asleep. Her killer strategy was that he'd be less likely to bother her, instead deeming her as uninteresting. So far, it had worked a charm.

The polished, mahogany floorboards only magnified the clunk of his oddly heavy steps as he staggered down the hallway, reminding her of a knobbly-kneed giraffe on stilts. A stumble and a scrape slashed through the house, probably Marik losing his footing, tripping into the wall and knocking one of the fancy-schmancy paintings. Muttering soon followed, then more scraping, like he was struggling to straighten a tilted painting frame. Another few clumsy steps later and the click of a light switch met her ears. Stubborn strands of light instantly clawed their way beneath her closed lids, creeping into her vision.

A'isha clenched her eyes tighter, biting back the temptation to snap at him for turning on the light when she was technically meant to be asleep.  _He's selfish enough sober,_  she reminded herself,  _let alone when he's too hammered to think straight… or walk straight, for that matter._

More clunks resonated through the room, each one louder than the last. By the time they'd stopped, A'isha was sure he was standing right by the bed, and wanted nothing more than to squirm in discomfort. She could feel his eyes on her, his world no doubt spinning as he stared and swayed on the spot.

"A'isha?"

Yep. He was standing right there. As if he wasn't creepy enough before.

"… Ish?"

She very nearly groaned, sure she'd jinxed herself by thinking the fake-sleeping had been going so well. Fortunately, though, he was whispering, sounding unsure. He must've been wondering if she was awake and prime for bothering or not.

 _Just ignore him,_  she told herself, struggling to maintain her level breathing. She just felt so awkward, so uneasy. For some reason, her mind drifted to Paranormal Activity. How the haunted Katie, possessed by a malevolent demon, had unblinkingly stared down her sleeping boyfriend for two hours straight. That only made her want to squirm more.

"I cut myself on a painting frame," Marik continued. His words were uttered with the slightest slur, though his incoordination suggested he was far more inebriated than his speech was letting on. "Can you please help me patch it up?"

A'isha sighed, cursing her damn considerate side, never mind the fact he actually seemed to know what manners were. She straightened beneath the sheets to meet the somewhat glassy-eyed gaze of Marik's laughing irises. Immediately, she knew she'd been duped.

Nonetheless, she caught herself giving Marik a brief once over to affirm he really was as fit as a fiddle, given how sloshed he was. He wore a crisp white shirt, the collar slightly askew, black buttons lining the front, and the sleeves short. His caramel legs were hidden behind a pair of snug, dark blue jeans, a black belt wrapped around his waist while his magic stick was nowhere in sight. His legs were nearly pressed to the side of the bed as he smugly watched her. Yup, no cut in sight.

"You look very proud of yourself," she grumbled, drawing the silk sheets to her chin to hide a frown of displeasure.

A mischievous smile tilted his lips. "You really do care too much." He slid onto the edge of the bed. How the hammered guy in the room could plant his tush down on the squishy mattress without tumbling backwards while  _she_ hadn't managed to do so when sober, she couldn't understand.

A'isha yawned long and loud, wriggling her right hand through her mussed, wavy hair. Her left hand maintained a loose grip on the edge of the sheets. He'd simply watched her the whole time. "What do you want, Marik?" she finally asked.

"Human interaction."

"What? Can't go a few hours without torturing someone with your presence?"

That same mischievous smile swelled. "Something like that."

A'isha should've been scowling, but for some strange reason a small smile tugged at her lips instead. Boy, her brain really needed some shuteye. "Shouldn't you be letting me get a little beauty sleep for tomorrow?"

Marik's smile faded, seriousness replacing it. "Last I checked, dinner is a meal one consumes at the very end of the day. Naturally, our reservation has been booked with that little detail in mind. Given I have nothing else arranged for us tomorrow, it won't be necessary for you to wake up until around four in the afternoon."

Great. Even when drunk, the jerk was still ten steps ahead of her.

"Where are we eating?"

"An Italian restaurant."

She snorted with dry amusement.  _No shit, Sherlock. We're in Italy._

"I assume," Marik continued, "that you don't have any prevailing allergies that should be brought to my attention?"

"Really? I've been stuck with you for a week and you're only asking this  _now_?"

"I'm relieved to be in the presence of someone so perceptive."

A'isha rolled her eyes, dropping the sheets to reveal a baggy black shirt and a sour frown. "I swear that line's one of your favourites."

"That or some variation of it." Marik's mischievous smile returned. "You haven't managed a wink of sleep, have you?"

A'isha slumped against the bed-frame with crossed arms, her exhaustion plain as day. "Not with your elephant feet stomping around the place!"

"I thought I was being subtle."

"You're a lot of things, Marik, but subtle isn't one of them." Before he could ask her to elaborate on all of the things that he  _was_ , A'isha added, "So do you actually have a reason for bothering me? Boredom doesn't count."

"I wanted to apologise for how I acted earlier." His sudden sincerity was enough to stun her into a temporary silence. The admission had come rather softly and with no preamble. Did he actually have a semblance of a conscience somewhere in that nutty head of his?

Eventually, Ish found her voice along with her prior glare. "Hm. You'll have to be more specific."

"Specif… Specificit… Being specific would suggest I'm referring to a particular incident."

Upon hearing his pronunciation struggles, A'isha had keeled over with laughter, burying her face into the silk sheets near her lap. To Marik's slight annoyance, she hadn't truly comprehended the words he'd actually managed to say. In hindsight, though, perhaps that was a good thing. What would such admissions accomplish? How could they possibly work in his favour?

"I- I'm sorry," she wheezed, tears forming in her eyes. "It's just… you- you're always so articulate and this is just- Oh, it's really killing me!"

Only when Marik stumbled to his feet did A'isha's laughter subside. As though their roles had reversed, she was the one smirking while he was busy scowling.

"Goodnight," he stated tersely, beginning to elephant stomp toward the hallway door.

"Where are you off to, Dumbo?"

Marik screeched to a halt, tottering twice as he pulled a one-eighty to face her. He eyed her pointedly. "Are you questioning my intelligence?"

A'isha bit back another bout of laughter. Clearly, he'd missed the joke. "Haven't you seen Dumbo?" she asked, surprisingly unfazed by his irritated stare. "It's an old Disney movie about an elephant with giant ears."

She watched as Marik gingerly touched his right earlobe, jewellery-free and half-hidden behind his blond bangs. "They're not  _that_ big…" She could've sworn he'd sounded defensive, even insecure. As if holding back her laughter hadn't been hard before.

"Marik," she forced, lips curling the slightest bit upward, "I wasn't talking about your—"

"Get some sleep," he ordered, facing the exit. "You'll need it for our dinner tomorrow."

"But you just said before that we wouldn't need to be up until…"

Marik was already halfway out the door, his feet thumping on the floorboards with every drunken step he took. A'isha rolled her eyes, slumping back against the bed-frame.

"Thanks for turning the light off, Mr Off His Face," she muttered under her breath, and dragged herself out of bed to do just that. It was better than calling him back, especially when the bipolar jerk suddenly seemed like he'd swallowed a million lemons.

A'isha was just slipping back beneath the sheets, relieved to find they were still toasty warm, when a harsh slam tore through the house. The nearby windows, unseen behind closed curtains, even shuddered from the force. It sounded like the front door. A steady silence followed. That is, it no longer sounded like Marik had stumbled across the supernatural Jumanji board game, summoning a stampede of African animals to wreak havoc through the house.

 _Where's that smashed psycho off to?_  A'isha frowned, drawing her legs toward her chest.  _Better yet, why do I even care?_

. . .

_Don't be dumb, Ish. You don't friggin' care._

. . .

_Wait. There's a cliff just outside this place!_

. . .

_So what if he walks off it and kills himself? You'd finally be free._

. . .

_I'm a horrible human being._

. . .

_But at least I have a good reason to sink down to his level._

. . .

_Even if these thoughts still make me feel like a real piece of shit._

. . .

For the next few hours, A'isha's thought processes went much the same way, deflecting any and all sleep. One minute, she was stressing over Marik's safety, worried he'd walked off the cliff or collapsed in a ditch or something of a similar nature. The next minute, she visualised herself being the lucky one to push him off said cliff. He was a despicable human being. He'd kidnapped her and her cousin, threatened them and frightened them, deprived them of their freedom and screwed around with their heads—figuratively  _and_  literally.

He was a nasty piece of work and she didn't care about him one bit. Plain and simple.

An assortment of other thoughts weaselled their way into her mind. Thoughts of her loved ones, of her crazy predicament, the whole shebang.

How were her friends doing without her? And was Amara okay back on Marik's launch? Did Dani somehow know she'd called Julie instead of him and if so, did he understand why she'd done it? Was Julie now in Italy, perhaps a little less out of reach? Did Ahad hate her for getting in over her head, trying to save Amara on her own? Should she have left it to him and the rest of Alexandria's police force, rather than tackling the mysterious Namu alone, not truly knowing who she was dealing with? Was Ahad hot on Marik's trail? Or was his search solely set on Egypt, her uncle unaware that those he sought were now in a whole other continent? Would she really ever get out of this mess? Or was Marik lying, and had no real intention of releasing her after everything she'd learned about him? Would she meet an untimely end at his hands, in the literal sense or otherwise? Or would he genuinely release them once he knew a way that wouldn't land him behind bars?

…

And was it after midnight yet?

A'isha flicked on the bedside lamp, the stained glass casting an array of colours across the simple beige wall. Her sights shifted to the analogue clock that hung above the hallway door, its tiny hands ticking over Roman numerals. As she registered the time, her stomach squirmed; its contents seemed to toss and turn just like she'd done for what really  _had_ been hours. She'd gone to bed at around seven in the evening. Marik had probably slammed his way through the front door at around eleven. It was now nearly one.

A'isha pursed her lips in thought. She kind of needed to pee. Maybe she should give the house a once over afterwards. Heaven knows, she probably wouldn't get a wink of sleep tonight if she didn't put her worries to rest.

 _You're only worried that he's ditched you for the Dumbo joke or something,_  she told herself, grimacing. _Or that he might still have the jet ski keys on his person and might just lose em in his sloshed state. I sure as heck don't wanna be stuck here with him any more than I currently am… Though he'd probably be able to use the rod to find some help but— argh! Stop overthinking, A'isha!_

A'isha shook her head sharply, willing the thoughts away. With a resolute sigh, she tore the sheets from her frame, only for the cool night-time air to swarm over her skin. Her shadow stepped along the wall as she passed the bedside lamp toward her suitcase, planning to grab her simple, black jacket before emptying her bladder and searching the house.

* * *

For the second time that night, A'isha searched high and low for Blondie. She'd held onto hopes that he might've just returned in a far quieter fashion than he'd left but, as expected, her quest had borne no fruit indoors. She had, however, scrounged up a chunky, bright yellow torch she'd previously seen in the drawer of an old, mahogany desk. She flicked it on to find the light was bright and the batteries were fresh. Unfortunately, it only illuminated the old-fashioned phone placed to one corner of the desk.

She scoffed, her mind wandering a few hours into the past. Hope had sparked to life within her when she'd laid eyes upon the outmoded device, searching for Blondie after the nap she  _had_ managed to get. Within seconds, that hope had been cruelly snatched away by the fact the thing was missing a cord, rendering it useless. The two-way radio she'd found hadn't had batteries either (and sadly, the torch batteries were way too big). Marik really did think of everything.

A'isha glanced toward the front door and grimaced.  _Guess I'd better fetch my shoes,_ she surmised, stomach twisting in knots at the thought of wandering through the forest alone… at night… in a foreign country.

"Given the lengths I'm going to to find the jerk, he'd better be bloody injured," she muttered, heading for the bedroom, "or I'll damn well injure him myself with this chunky-ass torch."

A few minutes later, the soft pat of her chucks on the shiny floorboards echoed as she crossed the living room, stepping over to the front door. It was already unlocked, so she flicked the handle and stepped out onto the veranda, shuddering at the temperature drop. Now that she thought about it, it  _was_ the middle of winter… even if this  _was_  the Mediterranean.

A'isha glanced left. Blondie wasn't out here either—and she was totally okay with that. After all, the only thing of interest out here was a hot tub and she was  _so_  not prepared to see her captor in nothing but shorts. The wetsuit had been scarring enough (she tried to steer clear of thoughts of the morning wood incident).

She scanned the area, pleasantly surprised by how light it was. The moon was almost full, spreading its soft glow across the land, pale light tearing through gaps in twisted branches of the nearby forest. Though to be on the safe side, she tapped the torch on anyway, the brilliant beam of light slicing through the shadows to illuminate the lush green clearing, returning life to a landscape dulled by darkness.

As luck would have it, the light also drew her attention to a few snapped, itty bitty twigs and footprints in a patch of mud. They led away from the holiday home, toward the path to the beach. A clue as to where he'd gone.

"Late night walks through creepy forests… My favourite…"

Fear crossed her countenance the second those words sunk in. Her mind shot two weeks into the past, a terrifying reminder of the last time she'd walked alone at night. Her breathing quickened, fear begging her to turn back, promising regret if its cries fell on deaf ears. Minutes passed, the songs of crickets distant to her ears; but ultimately, intrigue (she refused to say  _compassion_ ) drove her forward, the soles of her shoes thumping on the veranda steps as she begun the quarter-hour journey.

The flashlight ripped through the night, luring the occasional bug. Out of instinct, she slapped away the ones that flittered near her face, sputtering in mild disgust when one massive moth flew near her lips. At least they distracted her from the eerie crunch of dry leaves and lone twigs that cracked beneath her shoes.

In an attempt to keep her unease at bay, she kept the flashlight on the meandering path, avoiding the spiralling arms of nearby trees, reaching for her with ill-intent. Her blue eyes were set on the crisp leaves scattered across the dirt path. "You're fine, Ish… You're fine… Just quit being paranoid and focus on finding Mr Off His Face…"

Maybe half way through her walk, A'isha found another clue: a sizeable splash of red on a patch of dry dirt. She might've thought it was blood, had it not been for the thick tree root a few steps back, protruding from the coastal forest to twist its way across the path like a serpent. It looked more like he'd tripped up, spilling his wine. Hopefully the rest of the bottle. He was trolleyed enough without it.

"If only I'd been there to see karma in action."

* * *

After what felt like the longest fifteen minutes of her whole dang life, A'isha eventually heard the faint swish of small waves rolling to shore, as the coastal forest gave way to sparse shrubbery. Soon after, the dirt path transitioned to sand, countless grains sinking beneath her shoes, squeaking with each step she took.

Gradually, the waves grew louder, and she welcomed the soothing whoosh of the water rolling to shore. It calmed her taut nerves, her shoulders slackening while her breathing slowed. When she finally reached the beach, the gentle ocean breeze beckoned her forward, toying with the loose, unruly strands of black hair that framed her face. The ocean was so still she could see the heavens upon its smooth surface, the enormous, pale moon and a sea of softly shimmering stars woven into the blackened sky.

A little ways along the beach, she could make out the jet ski slumped at an angle atop the sand. That suggested the tide had receded a fair amount since she'd last been down here. She scanned her surroundings for Mr High and Mighty, easily spotting him near where the sand faded to grass and shrubs. Never before had she been so relieved to see the jerkwad.

As A'isha wandered along the beach, she shuddered from the icy breeze and zipped her jacket higher with her left hand, the right still holding the torch. Somehow the blond hadn't noticed her presence yet. "That's a first," she murmured, too quietly for him to catch. She frowned, spotting an empty bottle of wine half-forgotten in the sand, a few stray drops having dyed the grains ruby red.

A'isha arched a brow as she grew nearer still. Marik's scrawny butt was planted upon a two-seater sofa constructed of… sand?

_Stumbling down to the beach late at night to build a freakin' sand-sofa? Who would've thought Mr Stick Up His Ass actually has a childish side! Drunk person logic, I swear._

As she walked, the beam of the flashlight swiped over him in quick succession. Only then did he glance her way, his lavender eyes wide in slight alarm. That alarm vanished when he saw her, replaced by an expression she couldn't quite identify. All she knew was that she hadn't seen it from him before.

"Why aren't you in bed?"

"'Cause your drunk ass walked off over two hours ago."

Marik grinned playfully, the whiteness of his teeth still noticeable beneath the moonlight. "I see. Don't tell me you were worried about me."

"Worried about you? No. Worried you might do something stupid or crazy like lose the jet ski keys or torture wild animals? Maybe."

Marik smirked. "Don't be silly, A'isha. I only torture humans." His smirk grew when she rolled her eyes, clearly not sharing his amusement. He glanced at the empty spot beside him, slightly swaying toward it as he did. "Wanna sit?" he asked, patting said spot expectantly.

"I'm fine standing."

A'isha stared down at him, half-mindedly taking in his appearance. In an instant, she realised a few things were out of place. His hair was drenched and clinging to his neck and shirt, the latter of which was inside out, the buttons undone to reveal an unfortunately well-sculpted abdomen. And- Oh man. Her hand slapped over her lips in a desperate attempt to bite back laughter. Marik's black boxer briefs had been slid up  _over_ his denim jeans, the tight material clinging to every crease and crinkle of the thick, dark blue denim beneath it.

Suddenly, this whole search had been well worth the effort.

"Marik, did—" A snort of amusement cut her words short. "Did- Did you just go skinny dipping?!"

He scowled like a toddler, a small pout fighting its way onto his lips. "Of course not!"

"You're a terrible liar tonight."

" _You're_  the terrible liar, lying that  _I'm_  a terrible liar."

A'isha stifled another laugh. Apparently his comebacks were rather lacklustre when he was under the influence. "Oh really?" Her lips curved upward. "Care to explain how your shirt's inside-out? And why you're pulling a Superman?"

His eyes sunk to his crotch, before an aggravated sigh dragged through his lips. When his sights shifted to her, A'isha was sure a faint blush had darkened his cheeks, semi-apparent even beneath the pale moonlight. Without a doubt, this had to be the highlight of her week. It even trumped that time he'd fallen flat on his ass while climbing that tree… err, not that that was saying much.

"So tell me again, Marik; who's the one that sucks at lying?"

The childish glower he wore was priceless. Gosh, was this how he felt  _all_  the time? No wonder he was such a giant prick—this was a hoot and a half!

Marik slapped his hands against the sand sofa. "I was covered in sand after making this thing", he briefly looked at the ocean, "so I took a dip to remove it all."

She cocked her head, confused. "Your clothes aren't  _terribly_  drenched. How'd you dry yourself?"

"I air-dried." He smirked when her face warped with mild disgust. "It's quite fortunate that you came when you did, and not a minute earlier."

"For once, it seems we're in agreement on something." She gave him another once over. "Aren't you cold?"

"Quite the opposite."

"Are you kidding me?" A'isha shrieked, gesturing to her completely clothed and dry self. "I'm dry, clad in a jacket, just walked for fifteen minutes and even  _I'm_  a little cold!"

"I guess I'm just way hotter than you."

A'isha looked incredulous. "Uh huh…" Of course he was grinning like an idiot, seeming to think that was his best dis to date. "Sorry to break it to you, but your insults tonight are pretty subpar."

"I've reduced myself to your level of wit in the hopes of finding some common ground."

A'isha blinked. "That was… a little better."

Marik beamed up at her. "You know, I'm not as drunk as you thunk I am," said every drunk person ever.

"As I  _thunk_ you are?"

For the second time in minutes, Marik was visibly embarrassed. "You're  _clearly_  hearing things." He leaned against the arm rest of his fancy sofa, and she had to wonder if he was doing so for balance rather than comfort. "I  _one hundred and TEN_ percent said think. It's… that… uhh… thing I do all the time."

A'isha's brow rose. "Pretty sure thinking's that thing  _everyone_  does all the time." She shifted her weight from her left leg to her right.

"But  _especially_  me!" Marik announced far too enthusiastically. "And you too, I suppose."

A'isha sighed, awaiting the generic jab about how she always overthinks—

"Oh Ra!" Marik exclaimed. He swayed his way off the sand-sofa arm rest to smack his hands against his cheeks. "I just realised I said a hundred and  _ten_  percent! There's no such thing! No! That's been a pet peeve of mine since I first came up here and read about it on Wiktionary!"

 _Since he first came up here? Huh. Did he ACTUALLY ascend through the earth's crust from the fiery pits of hell?_ She bit back another laugh.  _Called it._

"Marik, a hundred and ten percent is just an expression. It's not meant to be taken too seriously."

"You can't exceed one hundred percent, you know?" he prattled on, ignoring her. "A'isha, you've gotta hit me for being so stupid. Please. Just do it."

Had she not already been looking his way, she might've just given him a triple take. The guy looked dead serious, if not rather out of it. "Are you actually  _inviting_  me to hit you?"

"Yeah! Like you mean it!" A dry smile slid across his lips. "That shouldn't be too hard for you, Ishy Wishy."

As much as A'isha wanted to laugh at Marik's sorry state, all she could seem to do was watch on with pity. "As tempting as the offer is, I try not to hit people when they're down… even if you totally deserve it."

"Wha makes ya think I'm down? I'm feelin' pretty  _up_  right now." His dry smile slowly fell as he looked over her face. "Well, I  _was_ feeling up until you looked at me like  _that_."

"You just… Well, you don't strike me as the type to get drunk every other weekend."

The way his lips curled nearly touched on pouting territory. "Ish, I already told you that I'm  _not_  drunk."

"Correction," she said bluntly. "You said you're not as drunk as I  _think_  you are. To me, that implies that you think you're drunk on  _some_  level." And suddenly she wanted to slap herself.  _Oh God, I sound just like—_

"Jeez, Ish! You sound like  _me_!"

A'isha grimaced. Great. Even  _he'd_  made the connection in his current sorry state. "Does that mean you're actually admitting to being an overly pedantic asshole?"

He glanced up at her, an oddly cheerful smile spreading across his lips. "For someone who thinks I'm drunk, you're not being all that careful. If I  _was_  drunk and what with me being The R.H., what's ta stop me from losing my head over the name-calling?"

Oh man. He'd definitely lost his fancy-talking at the bottom of the bottle.

"Force of habit—"

"Also, you just admitted to being an overly pedantic asshole yourself."

For some strange reason, she was smiling. "Obviously I've been stuck with you for too long," she countered, absently rubbing her hands over her clothed arms. Despite the jacket, she was still a smidge cold.

"Y'know, Ish," Marik continued, his cheerful smile stretching, "I've actually enjoyed this past week immensely. I think I've already told you that, though."

Her smile sunk instantly, brief ire weighing it down. "Can't say I feel the same way."

Her words seemed to wipe the grin from Marik's face, replacing his cheer with an emotion she couldn't quite pinpoint. "That was insensitive of me…" He wriggled his toes through the grainy sand, appearing thoughtful. "Don't get me wrong, Ish, I  _do_  wish I hadn't  _needed_  to resort to kidnapping you but I also…" The blond suddenly gripped a portion of his shirt, the creased fabric skimming across his tanned torso. "I'm still wearing my clothes all wrong."

It seemed he had the attention span of a two-year-old right now. Right when he'd been saying something about feeling guilty for kidnapping her. How typical.

"Wonderful," he grumbled. "My boxer briefs must be covered in sand. Can someone say  _sandy ass crack_!?"

A'isha's eyes bulged instantly, her jaw dropping like something straight out of a cartoon. It was a Godsend that she hadn't been drinking or she might've just spittaked all over him!

And for the third time in minutes, Marik's cheeks flushed beet red. "I can't  _believe_  I just said that! Who  _says_  that? Well, I just did but—Oh, Ra! I can't shut up!"

His face contorted in irritation. Ish, on the other hand, couldn't settle on laughing or cringing. Somehow, she sort of did both.

"Is this what being around Amara's like all the time, A'isha? How do you do it? I commend you. And—Ish, please interrupt me because I don't know how to stop talking and I—"

"Hey, I'm still over here coming to grips with the fact that  _you_  of all people just talked about sandy freakin' ass cracks!"

"Me of all people?" Marik cocked his head curiously. "Whatchu mean by that?"

"Well, uhh… Let's just say the only thing you ever seem to have up your ass is a  _stick_  so I—"

"A  _stick_  up my ass? Didn't I just tell you this evening that I think you're pretty?"

Another spittake worthy moment.

"Why," he prattled on, "is it so strange for me to open up about the current state of my ass—"

"Interrupting!" A'isha cried, peeling her hands off her arms to slap them firmly against her ears. "I'm interrupting for the sake of my sanity!" Her hands then fell to her side. "An-And you didn't call me  _pretty_! You just told me you'd… well…"

"Have sex with you?"

Her pained expression said it all, but given Marik's current state of mind, she spelt her thoughts out anyway. "Let's talk about something else. Or better yet, let's walk back to the holiday home and get a little shuteye for—"

"I'm sorry," Marik announced, sounding scarily sincere. "I forgot women prefer the term 'making love'."

A'isha considered a fake-wretch or two, amid her annoyance over the way he'd straight-up ignored her. The sincerity in his tone seemed to hold her back. "Not  _all_  women prefer that term, y'know?"

"Then what do  _you_  call it?"

She groaned in self-pity, slapping her forehead. "Why do our conversations always take a turn for the worse?" she sourly asked, more to herself.

"Worse?" Marik smirked, eagerly wriggling forward in his sandy seat. "Are you kidding me? This conversation just took a turn for the  _better_! Now tell me what you call it? I'm  _very_  curious."

"Marik, I'm not discussing this with you."

"Don't be such a  _prude_! It's just casual chit-chat about sex!" he tried to reason, still wearing that same cheeky smirk. "It's not like you're admitting to some unspoken attraction for me or anything. Everyone talks about sex. Haven't you seen the movies?"

"We should really head back to—"

"So is 'making love' too sappy for you? I must admit, you do seem like the type to find the phrase cheesy. Ties in with how you struggle to open up to others." Realisation flashed in his hazy, lavender pools. "Ohhh! That's probably why you don't wanna talk about it, right? I'm the  _last_  person you wanna open up to, least of all about sex." He wriggled on back against the sand-sofa, his back straight and his smirk gone. "Okay, I get it now. Let's talk about something else. What's your favourite kind of potato?"

A'isha set aside her shock, watching Marik bleakly. She observed the childish naivety of the smile he wore as he returned her stare, expecting an answer. The expression was so unsettling, so unlike him, and something about it was just so, so heart-breaking. This was the nicest he'd ever been to her… the most carefree she'd ever seen him… the most innocent he'd ever looked… and it was all thanks to the alcohol that flowed through his veins, numbing his senses and simplifying his thoughts. Something about that was just so damn depressing.

 _Ahad once said a person's truest self can be found at the bottom of a bottle..._  A'isha pursed her lips thoughtfully. _Does that mean there's_ actually _a nice guy somewhere in that crazy blond head of his? One that's usually forced to take a back seat thanks to his arrogance and pride?_ She squirmed on the spot, puzzled by the pity that racked her mind. She  _wanted_  to find that answer. She  _wanted_  to be nice to him. She  _wanted_ to see him happy, and that petrified her.  _Oh great. Is this what the start of Stockholm Syndrome feels like?_

"Ish?" Marik yanked her from her reveries, confusion now crossing his features. "Can I ask what you're thinkin' about?"

A'isha shrugged, acting casual. "Nothing interesting." She forced a smile. "You asked what my favourite kind of potato is?"

Marik perked up, the bipolar in him swiftly switching his confusion out for another merry grin. "Yeah. Well, I know you like potatoes. It just so happens that I also like potatoes and it occurred to me that I don't know what kind of potatoes you like." He assumed a thoughtful look, stroking his non-existent beard in a seemingly dramatic fashion as he eyed her intently. Marik acting goofy? Now that was a sight. "Tell me, Ish… do you prefer them boiled… roasted… mashed… scalloped… baked… as fries or wedges… or another type I'm forgetting?"

"Mashed with lots of butter or scalloped with lots of cheese."

Marik's fist pumped through the air. "Yes! That's the correct answer! I might've just had to dump your crazy butt if you'd answered wrong!"

"In that case, I actually prefer them—"

"Nice try, Ish," he teased, "but I'm not biting; though I will say you  _did_  miss out fries. Those little suckers are amazing. Why do you think I stole your McDonald's fries the other day?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe to piss me off."

Marik snickered, no doubt recalling her satisfying squawks as he'd nabbed a few of her fries. "True, your cries of protest made them taste ten times better… but I digress. I just love fries." He glanced at the empty spot on the sand-sofa, then back at her. "By the way, are you gonna sit down already?" He slowly rolled his neck, cracking it twice. "My neck's getting sore looking up at you like this."

"Actually, I was planning on heading back to—"

"Wait!"

Marik had cut through her words, leaping from his seat as dread swiftly slapped itself upon his tanned visage. She had to raise a brow at the pure, childlike desperation in his voice, let alone the fact she hadn't even taken a step yet. Apparently, her words alone were enough to peel him off that fancy sand-sofa of his, exposing him in all his alcohol-induced incoordination; the way he stumbled and staggered on the spot like his legs had turned to jelly. He just couldn't stand still, no matter how hard he tried.

A'isha raised a brow, a silent request for elaboration on his outburst.

Marik gave it, his tone unusually gentle. "A'isha, I…" His eyes lowered. A bad move on his part, for his swaying only worsened as he stared down his feet. He looked back up mere moments later, and his balance improved the tiniest smidge. "I'm… I'm enjoying your company, Ish. You've never talked to me like this and I… I just… I don't want it to end just yet."

His words took a few slow seconds to sink in. When they did, A'isha was left wondering if she'd ever felt so conflicted in her life. She was rarely indecisive, at least not like this. A part of her wanted to stay, to feel sorry for him, to enjoy the friendliness while it lasted. And yet, her desire to stay was the very reason she wanted to go. She shouldn't feel bad for leaving him. She shouldn't want to stay. This should be a no-brainer.

"Look, Marik… I just…" A'isha paused, not knowing where she'd been going with that. "I'm pretty sure you're doing most of the talking anyway. Why don't you just… I dunno… build a sandman to talk to or something?"

The stupid suggestion had barely left her lips when guilt reared its ugly head, vengefully feasting upon her drained brain. She hated how this wasn't the first time she'd felt bad for being short with him, and how cruddy she felt when she said something shallow. The hurt that swam strong in his faraway stare, she decided, was what she hated the most.

Ish opened her mouth, only to hesitate. He looked so dang pitiful, nothing like she was used to. It was almost unbearable to see; a part of her almost wished he'd go back to being the cruel, cryptic jerk she'd come to hate this past week. She tried again. "Marik… It's late. I don't know why you  _want_  me to stay down here, but—"

"Because I don't feel so lonely with you…"

A'isha tensed. He said it so quietly that at first the confession didn't register with her. Then she looked at him, her lips trembling and her eyes hazed by unshed tears and decade-old memories.

_Sobs shook her tiny form, hiccupping in her closed throat, mucus smearing her nose. Her curious audience peeked through drawn curtains, concern shaping their countenance as they eyed the young girl that bawled at their neighbour's doorstep. Her small fists pounded on the door, the single slab of wood all that stood between her and the one whose arms she sought._

" _Mi-Mia Moo!" she wept, peering over her shoulder, out at the inky blackness of a still Egyptian night. She was sure monsters skulked through the darkness unseen, snarling their sallow fangs; but she was only afraid of a wicked witch, its hair light and its stare dreadfully dark. "Ma-Maria? I-I'm s-s-scared…"_

_In a matter of moments, artificial light flicked to life overhead, bathing her in hope. Her fists hit the door a little lighter, anticipation brightening her round eyes. She heard the shuffling of sluggish steps just beyond the chestnut wood, and caught sight of an all too familiar figure through a tall pane of frosted glass to the right of the door._

_The second the door eased aside to reveal two benign eyes and a smile she so adored, she tackled the woman in a tight hug, the warmth of relief enveloping her in the form of Maria's soothing embrace._

" _A'isha!" exclaimed Maria, surprise in her voice. "What are you doing here?" She smiled as the girl buried her face in her pale shoulder, though concern swayed it soon after. She smoothed her hand across the youngster's back in an effort to calm her, relieved as her shuddering sobs slowly lessened to meek sniffles. "It's very late. Why aren't you at home in your bed?"_

_The youngster peeled her tanned cheek from Maria's snug shoulder. "I was scared an-and alone."_

" _Alone?" Maria repeated, closing the front door with her hip. "Why were you alone? Where's Ahad?"_

" _Work," she answered at a whisper, sniffing._

" _What about Elissa?" Maria fought back a grimace, not at all fond of the devious blonde. "Is she at home? Does she know you're here?"_

_A'isha fell silent. Her blue eyes darted, avoiding the woman's worried gaze._

" _Ish?" she breathed. "Are you okay?"_

_The girl hesitated. "Mmhm," she eventually voiced, eyes lowered._

_Maria frowned, watching A'isha through a vision blurred by the onset of tears. "Why is your cheek red?" she asked, an odd combo of ire and empathy whittling her features. Ire at the one responsible, empathy for the one in her arms._

" _I… I tripped and fell."_

" _What did you fall on?"_

_Silence._

_Maria's frown deepened, her bottom lip twitching as tears threatened to fall. "A'isha, dear. At the very least, please tell me this. Why would you come all the way over here so late at night?"_

" _Because I…"_

_A'isha's eyes found hers, red and puffy; their cerulean depths glistening under the fluorescent lights._

" _I don't feel so lonely with you…"_

Back in the present, A'isha's sights sunk to the sand beneath her shoes. For the second time that night, she realised she was crying—and in front of Sir Jerk-A-Lot, no less. He eyed her rather quizzically, standing a few feet away. Well, more like  _swaying_ a few feet away, his poise still poisoned by wine.

"Horrible night for you too, huh?"

A'isha didn't bother to answer. The tears were doing that for her and this time, she didn't even try to hide them. Instead, she dragged out a shaky sigh. His slurred and gloomy words had proven to be a painful reminder of today's date… not that she ever forgot it for long.

A slow minute ticked by before another thought swiped some headspace. "What's got  _you_  so down?" she quietly asked, her eyes remaining rooted to the sandy ground. For whatever reason, her hostility had taken a backseat. Whether from pity, exhaustion or something else entirely, she really had no clue.

And now Blondie was the one failing to answer—with words, anyway. She heard rustling and grunting ahead, and looked up to find him shrugging out of his shirt, somehow making the action look extremely arduous. Her gaze followed the garment as he tossed it on the sand-sofa, briefly forgotten.

"Heads up, Ish. _My_ head's about to come out."

A'isha's lips had barely parted, ready to seek further elaboration, when the shrill sound of a zip did that for her. Her horrified stare snapped back from the shirt to the blond just in time to discover a less than pleasant part of him was a much darker shade of blond. Heat rose to her cheeks, her face flushing every shade of red imaginable as a shriek leapt from her lips and her eyes instantly flew from the traumatising sight.

"What the flying frack, Marik?!" she screeched, hands desperately blocking her vision as she lurched half a circle to stare up the beach and away from her probably-now-naked captor. The only silver lining in all this was the fact she'd only glimpsed his flippin' pubes and not his… err… 'twig and berries'.

"Didn't I warn you?"

"A vague comment and two seconds notice is  _not_  a freaking warning!"

"Afraid you'll be impressed?"

"More like afraid I'll be scarred enough for  _five_  lives!"

She heard him chuckle, clearly enjoying her embarrassment way too much. "Exactly how much  _did_  you see?"

"Let's just say I know for sure you're not a bottle blond!"

"Lucky you."

She scoffed, knowing full well that he was smirking. The thump of a singular foot upon the ground soon followed the tease. Was he literally hopping back into his—

A louder thump and a sudden "oof!" soon answered that question.

"Ow. My face."

A'isha rolled her eyes, not bothering to comment. She'd rather leave him to do his thing, without a shred of input from her. She heard a little more struggling and rustling and all sorts. Then he spoke up again.

"Another heads up, mine's back in my boxers now."

Hesitant, A'isha peeked over her shoulder to find he wasn't lying. His extremely tight boxers now clung to his anatomy in the most terrifying way (as if there was any other way they could cling). His jeans, however, were still clutched in his sand-covered hands, their owner eyeing the inside of the legs inquisitively. She swiftly averted her gaze, blushing harder. "What are you doing?" she called back, staring out at the moonlit beach and rolling waves.

"They're covered in sand."

"You know what's  _not_  covered in sand?"

"Many things, but I assume you are referring to one item in particular."

"Yeah, the jeans in your suitcase."

"I was considering just wearing my boxers for the rest of the—"

"Like  _hell_  you are!"

"All right. Fine. One moment."

A'isha gave him that, a sigh sliding through her lips as the grunts of him struggling into his jeans echoed through the air, drowning out the gentle swish of nearby waves.

"Okay. You can look now."

To her relief, this time she peered over her shoulder to find he had pants. Thank goodness for that. Though now the trolleyed boy was busy tottering about, unable to stand still as he wriggled into his shirt.

An eternity and a half seemed to pass before Marik managed to slip into the stubborn garment. At this point, she was torn between pained by watching him struggle with such a simple task and humiliated by her undeniable likeness to a tomato, having realised she'd just spent a full ten seconds staring at his chiselled chest. And now her palms were sweating, her tell that she liked what she saw. A strong dose of guilt and an even stronger dose of denial flushed over her, twisting her stomach in knots.

Her company soon seized her attention. "Damn it all," he was muttering, and she realised he was now striving to button up his shirt. There was only one problem: it was still inside out.

A'isha rolled her eyes as she willed her legs into motion, striding through the sand toward the blond. Hopefully she wouldn't regret this. "Here," she said, the softness of the single word surprising even herself. She thought she caught him double-take too. "Your shirt's still inside out, Marik. Let me help."

Marik's lips formed a thin line. For a moment, he merely watched her. She could just see the gears turning—and even in his current frame of mind, dignity seemed to be wrestling with the rest of him. She counted five seconds before a resolute sigh slid through his teeth, and by some miracle, he swallowed his pride long enough to hold his arms out straight, kind of like a big kid pretending to be a plane.

On a mission, A'isha easily slid the shirt from his arms and flicked the thing outside in, all while praying to every deity she knew of that Marik couldn't tell she found him even remotely attractive. If he'd been sober, she knew such thoughts would've been a lost cause on Mr Observant To The Point Of Annoyance. A drunk Marik, however, she actually stood a chance against—

"When I've imagined you stripping me, this isn't what I've had in mind."

A'isha balked at that, nearly dropping his crisp white shirt. "Whe- When have you ever— No, forget it. I- I don't wanna know."

Marik's smirk was ear-to-ear, lavender eyes brimming with laughter. "Ohh, I just had a dream the other night that we—"

In two seconds flat, her right hand abandoned one sleeve of his shirt to slap itself firmly over his lips. Beneath her palm, she felt his smirk somehow stretch wider.

"I thgh you wgh cole. Yurr poms vrrgh swghy."

Marik's eyes alone drifted to the tanned hand across his mouth. He raised a brow as if to say  _do you mind?_

She groaned, her hand sliding from his lips. "You were saying?" she muttered.

"I thought you were cold," Marik repeated, a smirk still planted firmly on his pretty boy face. "Your palm is very sweaty."

At this point, A'isha had to wonder if she was really part tomato, given how red seemed to be the most prominent colour to grace her complexion these last few minutes. She responded with a simple shrug, shying away from his laughing gaze by examining the shirt in her grasp, fishing for the sleeve she'd just dropped to shut him up.

"Say, it doesn't have anything to do with me being shirtless, does it?"

A'isha stiffened. "Wha- Why would I—"

"Amara is well aware of your tendency to sweat at the palm when you find someone aesthetically pleas—"

"I'm not attracted to you."

"If you say so."

She turned back to the task at hand, pinching each sleeve between her thumb and forefinger on each side. "You know, I think you might just be sobering up. You're becoming more of a jerk by the minute."

Marik revealed a cheeky grin. "Are you teasing me, Ish?"

"No," she lied, and held the shirt up. "Now keep your arms out and turn around."

Whatever he was thinking, it must've been downright hilarious, considering his grin didn't waver one bit as he stumbled one-eighty degrees, refuting her claim that he really was sobering up. Sober Marik was seldom that uncoordinated.

Suddenly, A'isha paled, as the unseeing eyes of some ferocious beast stared back at her, painfully etched into his taut, bronze skin. Her stomach churned at the mere thought of enduring something so crazy as a knife to flesh, slicing intricate patterns in its wake. Why would anyone endure something so horrible?

She snapped back to reality, chewing on her bottom lip as she slipped the shirt up his arms. She didn't miss the way his broad shoulders had tensed. He was oddly silent too. She had a feeling it wasn't a coincidence his demeanour had shifted the second she'd laid eyes upon his back.

"That… must've hurt."

"It did," Marik answered, his voice tight. Then, with no preamble, he sunk cross-legged to the sand. She had a feeling he'd intended on sitting down with a little more poise than that.

Ish rounded the blond to find him staring off into space, his face appearing entirely devoid of emotion. She crouched before him, her heart nearly breaking for the second time that hour as she looked a little deeper to find sorrow swimming in his eyes. A'isha knew that look all too well. The look of the lost… the hopeless… the anguished. The look of one who's never felt good enough… of one who grieves for a life they've never known. Seeing it anywhere outside of a mirror, however, was a very rare thing. Yet here she was, seeing it from a man who, despite his many, many, many flaws, always seemed so strong and impenetrable, like some mighty fortress, its walls sheer and unscalable as it quietly crumbled from within.

In that moment, she was too caught up in her company's woes to even feel the tears that stained her cheeks.

"Are… Are you okay?"

The question seemed to lull him back to reality. "No," he breathed, his eyes slowly rising to meet hers. "I don't think I am…"

To say his words surprised her was a massive understatement. It wasn't every day that Blondie admitted to being a human being with feelings, never mind getting sloshed up the wazoo and emotional in buckets.

A'isha's lips pursed with deliberation, that familiar torn feeling returning to rack her brain as she eyed the empty spot beside him. Somehow, she had a hunch he wasn't after a scintillating conversation. She had no qualms with that, and certainly didn't hold it against him. A little peace and quiet was a Godsend on the best of days, let alone the worst. And it seemed she wasn't the only one who felt they were at their worst tonight.

A long moment passed before a resolute sigh escaped her lungs. She pulled herself from her crouching stance, briefly rising to her feet to take three steps to the blond's immediate right. With another sigh, she quietly claimed the empty spot and sunk to the ground at his side, criss-crossing her legs.

For some unknown length of time, A'isha simply existed. She stared out at the perfectly still sea, the subtle glow of the moon scattering across its surface. Waves pushed and pulled with the tide. Leaves from the nearby forest fluttered like frail wings of tiny birds, their whispers riding the salty ocean breeze that slid through her ruffled hair. All was calm, and she wanted to enjoy it while she could.

Eventually, her mind wandered, finding its way back to less than savoury thoughts not unlike the ones to leave her restless an hour earlier. At that point, she turned to the sandy canvas that was a patch of bare ground before her, and started to sketch circles of varying sizes. It helped her avoid her problems a little. It maybe even felt therapeutic in all its simplicity. She would've sketched something a little more inspiring, had she not attempted enough stick figures in her sixteen years to know they always ended up resembling two-week-old balloons impaled on frail trees. Performing arts had always been more her thing.

A'isha didn't miss Marik's not-so-subtle perusal of her work. It was pretty hard not to, given he'd been about as still as a statue for at least half an hour. Somehow, though, that thirty minutes of silence hadn't felt awkward. If anything, it had felt calming; something she wouldn't have thought was possible in the presence of her captor.

That no longer mattered, however, for that silence was soon shattered by the boy beside her.

"I was ten…"

A'isha paused mid-sketch, half a circle etched in the sand. The words had tumbled from his lips, so softly and suddenly that at first, she thought she'd been hearing things. Her forefinger hovered over her drawing as she looked up at him. His eyes were set on the same still sea she'd spent a good twenty minutes admiring before she'd started doodling. The vast, pale moon reflected in his lavender pools, and it was at that moment that she realised a few stray tears had gathered in his eyes, refusing to fall.

It took her another moment to truly comprehend those three words.

_I was ten._

Pallor swept across her dark complexion, draining it of any and all colour. Goosebumps erupted upon her skin, bile bubbling in her throat.

_Now that I think about it, those weird carvings on his back look stretched, like he's grown since he got them… But- But surely no ten-year-old kid would endure something so insane of their own free will… They'd need to be forced to or- or groomed to or something!_

Although her brain ran wild, A'isha's lips did the very opposite. Marik didn't want her sympathy, or a shoulder to cry on. He wanted a willing ear. He wanted to piece his thoughts together, freeing them from his racing mind. She knew the feeling. She knew it all too well.

Out on the horizon, a singular light from a lone boat twinkled faintly. Marik seemed transfixed on that light. A distant glaze had descended upon his eyes and funnily enough, this time she felt it wasn't the wine. He looked lost in thought, to that point where one is watching the world without seeing a sliver of it.

"Six years…" Those two words were soft and shaky, just like the ones that followed them. "It's been six years and I still remember every second so vividly… That last moment I spent hiding in bed, savouring one last shred of warmth as I soaked the sheets in tears… I remember the second they tore that warmth away; how I begged for mercy, begged to be free of my family's burden, how my pleas were met by sneers of contempt in place of the compassion I sought, like my dread disgraced our clan. And when I saw the disdain on their faces, I only felt more alone, more terrified, as they hauled me from my bed, from that painfully false sense of security.

"I still feel the stones that bit at my heels as my kin dragged me through the tomb… I'd never thought that underground prison could feel any smaller, but that day proved me wrong… It proved me so, so wrong… The Initiation Chamber seemed so close to my room, closer than ever. I wanted to prolong my arrival to that Ra-damned chamber for as long as I could… I kicked. I screamed. I planted my heels to the stone slabs beneath me… I didn't care if my clan thought me a coward.

"And as those stones stung my skin… it was at that moment that I truly realised how utterly unprepared I was for what awaited me in that chamber. I thought- I thought I was going to die… A part of me hoped I did, and that the gods would spare me more mercy than my clan ever did… I stared away from those chamber doors, from the inevitable, and I begged for Odion and Ishizu to help me… All they did was watch the ground. It was all they  _could_  do. They were hopeless, too. I can still see their faces. I can still feel the loneliness that I felt in that moment. It was the last thing I felt as the chamber doors slammed shut. And sometimes I wonder if that loneliness ever left…"

A'isha's vision was blurred by tears, whirled through an array of emotions she couldn't hope to understand. Not now, anyway. All she knew was the shock that shook her brain, and the confusion that fogged her thoughts. Her mind was a mess, striving to make heads or tails of the bomb he'd thrown her way. It was failing miserably.

"I suppose that loneliness  _did_  leave for a time. Or rather, it was repressed by the hours that followed. When I saw my father's smirk of anticipation, the sneers of my kin seemed warm by comparison. His damn smirk never fell – actually, it  _grew_  – as he ripped the robes from my back… strapped me down… prepared the gag right in front of me. I didn't know where to look: at the bits of dried blood soaked into the cracks of the stone slab beneath me, at his hands as he wound some dirty string around an old scroll meant to muffle my screams, at the unseeing eye and freshly sharpened dagger of the artefact he'd soon sink into my flesh, or at the sick enjoyment in his own eyes as he relished my terror."

She barely caught his face twist with despair before it was buried in his quivering hands. "A father is meant to keep their child from harm," he whispered, voice cracking twice, "not be the reason for their pain and suffering."

A'isha wasn't sure if she should be impressed that his tears hadn't fallen or shocked that they were there to begin with. When a dry laugh croaked from his throat, however, she  _was_  sure he'd never sounded so bitter.

"How ironic…" Marik's palms slowly sunk to his lap, his legs folded loosely as he firmly gripped his kneecaps. "Only a year later, that fool met his demise by the will of the very man he'd served for his entire pathetic existence; betrayed by King Yami, the almighty Pharaoh we've given our lives to for millennia, condemned to the darkness, never to see the light of the world above, or to feel its warmth on our skin." His eyes narrowed to slits. "I hope his soul keeps Ammit satisfied, 'til the day I deliver the Pharaoh's."

A'isha's eyes flew wide, his tone so eerily icy she just couldn't suppress a fearful shudder. Apparently the alcohol only emphasised Marik's bipolar ways, for only a second later remorse had ripped that ice away. If only she could shed her unease that swiftly.

"I shouldn't speak so ill of the dead." His hold on his knees slackened somewhat. "I'm sorry if I scared you just now."

A'isha swallowed, feeling as though a firm hand had clamped down on her neck, clenching tighter and tighter with every passing second. She couldn't speak. She couldn't even think.

This was all too crazy. It was too much to process. And she was way too exhausted to even try. She hadn't even realised she'd leapt to her feet until a hand was around her wrist, barring any movement forward. His coordination was better. His grip was oddly gentle. Funnily enough, those two observations combined only intensified her unease.

"For the longest time and perhaps even still, the only thing I could control with ease was  _when_  I choose to care." She watched out of her peripheral vision to her right as Marik took two very carefully placed steps forward. "It was always  _when_... never was  _where_  or about  _whom_  considered." Another placed step. "I suppose I still can't control those last two factors."

A'isha again was taken mildly aback. The emotional inconsistency was too much.  _Even if he makes slightly better drunk company than Amara-emphasis on sli—_

She no longer could see the moon or it's reflection on the water, rather it was two warmer lavender pools that had her focus. A warm back of a hand lightly traced against her cheek.

"I've often wondered how it feels." His voice was softly wistful. His lips delicately met hers, quashing any of her thoughts in that moment and replacing them with only one.


	27. Chapter 26: Miscalculations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Just a disclaimer, a certain jerk-face makes a jab in this chapter that relates to a brain disorder. We just want you all to know that we do not mean to offend anyone or make light of said disorder, which can have a big impact on the lives of those who have it. As always, our opinions do not necessarily mirror the characters of this story (or we'd be pretty screwy considering Marik's warped opinions on things, lol). The line just seems like something Marik would say, being the ass that he is. Anywho, please enjoy this chapter!

**Chapter Twenty Six: Miscalculations**

She could taste the wine on his lips, smell it on his skin—robust and sweet, fruity and dazing. Her cheek burned beneath his touch, his thumb gliding across her scarlet skin. He drew her close, his torso shaping to the ample curve of her bosom. His lips hushed her gasp. His heart thumped so strongly she could feel it, even hear it.

He was kissing her.

Marik.

Head of The Rare Hunters.

Her kidnapper.

Kissing her.

His lips.

On hers.

A'isha's eyes might've leapt from her skull had they not been attached to her brain. Instead, they screamed at the organ to spring back to life and save her sorry butt.

An agonising moment passed before her quivering hands jammed between them, wedging past his unbuttoned shirt to meet his bare chest. She shoved with all her strength, his abdomen hard beneath her fingertips. Her back struck sand, squeezing stale air from her lungs. Dark blue eyes shot up to meet stunned lavender.

A'isha was mortification personified, her every cell screaming her shame. She briefly caught him sporting a similar look before the ground turned fascinating to both of them.

A'isha grimly recalled the warmth of another… of the boy she truly cared for... the boy who'd surely spent days slapping posters of her face on every wall, and nights tossing and turning and hoping tomorrow would be different.

And just like that, she remembered what day it was, and everything it meant to her.

A turbulent ocean of emotions swelled within her. As if Marik's vague talk of his childhood hadn't thrown her through the ringer. Now her mind was in uproar, chaotic and frenzied, perplexity tearing it to fleshy shreds. Like a swollen stream after a violent storm, her every thought zipped by before a single one could be plucked from the surge.

Rage reared its ravenous head, devouring all other emotions. She sprung to her feet, her nostrils flaring, her lips trembling, her hands curled into quivering fists, her wild eyes slicing through his.

She was livid.

Completely and undeniably livid.

At Marik.

At  _herself_.

That was the worst part.

Finally, A'isha caved beneath the weight of her ire, spewing it forth in the form of four incensed words.

"WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?!"

Marik flinched. She didn't even notice.

Instead, she clutched her head hard, tempted to tear her black locks from her scalp. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to stop feeling like a stranger to her own mind.

Marik stepped forward.

She tensed.

"Don't."

Marik stilled instantly. That had definitely been an order, not a suggestion. His chin swiftly met his chest, his gaze sinking to his sand-spattered feet.

A painful silence swept over them, the far-off songs of crickets filling the brisk, evening air. Eventually, he found his voice. It was soft and shaky—and so unlike him.

"A'isha, I—"

"DON'T!" she ploughed through his words, the order torn by unshed tears. "DON'T FUCKING  _A'ISHA_ ME LIKE YOU ACTUALLY GIVE A  _SHIT_!"

Marik mirrored the world's jumpiest deer, entrapped by the brightest headlights known to man, as he gaped at the seething girl before him.

"YOU TOOK ME!" A'isha screamed, her hands mindlessly lashing through the salty air. "YOU TOOK ME AWAY FROM  _EVERYONE_! AND THEN YOU JUST- YOU JUST GO AND- AND—" A flustered shriek tore through gnashed teeth, her hands clutching her scalp. "JUST- JUST  _FUCK YOU_!  _FUCK. YOU._  I FUCKING  _HATE_  YOU! I  _LOATHE_  YOU! I  _DETEST_ YOU! I— _ARGH_!"

Lost to her ire, she scooped up a generous helping of ivory white sand and with a final 'fuck you', hurled it his way. The grains lashed out with a quiet hiss, his arms flying in front of his face just in time to bear the brunt.

A'isha stared down the dumbstruck blond. Her temples throbbed, tears swelling in her skull like an ever-rising tide. And for a split second, her anger evaporated. The phrase "I'm sorry" shouldn't have been anywhere  _near_  the tip of her tongue.

Her mind swerved down an unexpected route, suddenly thrusting countless, vile memories her way. Every single one starred a depressed girl who longed for happiness, and a horrid woman who longed to deny it. Until today, Elissa had been the only one in her life to earn an F-bomb outside of a dream, but this felt entirely different.

When she looked at Elissa, all she felt was animosity.

When she looked at Marik, that was all she  _wanted_  to feel. It was probably one of the few things she didn't. Not anymore. No matter how loudly she screamed otherwise.

That horrifying truth… that was what finally broke the camel's back. Or in this case, destroyed the rickety dam that restrained a river of tears. She'd barely come to grips with it all when a hoarse sob hiccupped in her throat.

Then another.

And another.

Full blown ugly crying—and it just  _wouldn't_   _stop_!

In an instant, A'isha spun on her heel to shield Marik from the disaster that was her face. Right now, dignity seemed like all she had. Being a blubbering mess in front of the guy responsible only shoved salt in the wound.

That was why she begun a mad dash across the beach, sand squeaking beneath her feet as desperation drove her forward. She had to get as far away from that- that  _asshat_  as possible. She didn't know  _when_  she'd stop sprinting. She just needed peace and quiet. She needed to think. And she damn well needed to be alone!

x

Rolling waves rustled like parched leaves in the wind. Grains of flaxen sand swirled through the salty air, bending to the whims of the evening breeze, sweeping along the soaring cliff face to her immediate right. Its surface was smoothed by the elements, glowing in the milky moonlight.

A stray hair tickled her cheek, refusing to stay tucked in her loose bun. Ish absently swiped the stubborn strand from her face, and drew her knees to her chest to hug her legs. She shivered, goosebumps sweeping across her dark skin.

Her sight was stuck on a lone, twinkling light out on the horizon. It was the very same light to steal Marik's focus earlier that evening, as he'd drunkenly divulged a slice of his past, popping a few pieces of the puzzle into place.

Around half an hour had passed since he'd claimed to care for her. She'd spent almost all of that time bawling her eyes out. Just a few intermissions for the sake of her dignity.

And right now, that lone light on the horizon was more like a white smudge. It felt like her vision had been whirled through a blender on full power, smearing each shade of the world around her. Bits of brown and blue, tons of black; all mixed by tears that turned cold at the wind's biting touch.

A'isha hated crying. In all its normality, everything about it just seemed so pathetic, so weak-willed, so overwhelming. Every time, she tried to tell herself otherwise. Every time, she failed spectacularly.

One day when surfing the Internet, Ish had stumbled across a site stuffed with intriguing sayings, facts of questionable origin sprinkled throughout its pages. She clearly recalled an article that touched on the health benefits of tears; among other things, they apparently excrete stress hormones and other toxins from the body while stimulating the production of endorphins, the body's natural pain killer. She'd spent the next hour searching up other articles of a similar nature, deciding if she should take the new info with a grain of salt. After all, anyone could post something online and claim it as true.

Despite her hate for crying, A'isha had to admit she felt a helluva lot better. Still peeved. Still terrified. Still sick to her stomach. Yet, still a lot better than she'd felt half an hour ago.

A'isha sniffed, then laughed, the sound drier than charred toast. Marik seemed like the type to soak up knowledge like a sponge, and she'd bet her non-existent money he knew all about the health benefits of tears—

Wait a sec.

Had there always been  _two_  twinkling lights out to sea?

She smeared the tears from her eyes, wondering if she was seeing doubles. She wasn't.

A second pastel yellow light had joined the first, gradually growing bigger and brighter as seconds turned to minutes. The drone of a motor soon hummed into existence, and the second light steadily split into a mass of smaller ones, their radiance only enhanced by the surrounding darkness.

Within minutes, perplexity pasted itself upon her face. Despite the inky gloom of the night, A'isha still recognised that ship painfully well, its shell greyed by shadows and its size rivalling that of a small cruise.

One thing was terribly wrong about this sudden shift of circumstances. It was here at least a day ahead of schedule. Didn't Marik make out their trip to Catania was only necessary because he was worried the boat wouldn't make it in time for their dinner?

A'isha ground her teeth, hoping his ship was early and  _not_  right on time; the implications surrounding the second situation only made her want to punch a wall. What if Marik had lied about all that? What if this trip had just been an excuse to get her alone?

A shudder cut through those thoughts, distaste twisting her features. She'd really rather not ask herself such sickening questions. Over-thinking only ever made things worse. She'd know.

Instead, Ish watched the world around her. Mainly Marik's boat. The sound of a metal chain grinding against fibreglass pierced the air, the vessel's anchor plunging to the seabed. Most of the portholes were devoid of light, suggesting that most of Marik's man harem were asleep. The lucky bastards.

The ship wasn't all that far from shore, so the anchor had embedded itself in the ocean floor within half a minute. It took double that time for the whirr of another motor to meet the atmosphere, echoing across the bay as a tiny light and an inky silhouette shot toward the shore. By the looks of it, they'd make landfall near Marik. Well, assuming Marik hadn't wandered off in a drunken sulk. Or a sulk, period. The jerk was capable of either.

A'isha sighed, figuring someone would soon be looking for her. It's not like she'd ever go out of her way to find  _them_. Heck no! She planned on savouring solitude for as long as humanly possible. However long that was, only time would tell.

x

They'd barely made landfall when Amara leaped from the cramped, motorised rowboat, the tincan rocking in her wake.

"Jeez, Mar," Jordan called out, hot on her trail. "Calm your farm, won't ya?"

Amara ignored him, her hazel eyes scouring the beach as cool water lapped at her heels. She quietly cursed the limited light from the milky orb overhead.

"Mar?"

"Jordy, my cousin's been stuck with a screwy psychopath since Wednesday!"

"Yeah, but—"

A new voice cut in, a hint of an Irish accent lining each word. "Can we just find the two lovebirds and head back—"

"She has a  _boyfriend_ , Bryn!" Amara squawked, shaking her fist at the young teen still seated in the rowboat. "Not to mention your boss is a creepy- uhh… a creepy creeper!"

"If ya say so, Mar," Bryn snorted, sending an amused glance at his colleagues; that is, Jordan and Odion. The former merely rolled his eyes and the latter… well, Odion didn't really respond at all. He simply shut off the motor and jumped overboard, a splash echoing as his large, bare feet made contact with the shallow seawater.

With a huff, Amara marched up the beach, squinting out at the darkness. She briefly wished she'd worn shoes. For some reason, sand between her toes always made her cringe.

"Pfft… Fancy Jordy telling me to hukuna my—Aha!" All of a sudden, she threw her forefinger toward a lone shape, faintly accentuated by the dim moonlight. It didn't look to have boobs, so it must've been— "Marik, you asshole!" she growled, racing up the beach to find…

"Why the hell are you on a seat made of sand?"

Two bloodshot eyes gazed up at her, their owner splayed across a sandy structure in the shape of a two-seater couch. He was glaring.

"It's called a sand sofa, you buffoon."

Amara balked, resembling a fruit fly. "Did- Did you just call me a baboon, you- you slippery snake?!"

Marik's sandy palm slapped his face as he groaned. "Odion, why'd you bring her?" he muttered, peering through his fingers at something over her shoulder. She glanced back to find the man merely two steps behind her, appearing as stoic as ever.

"Woah! You're, like, quiet as a mouse for a guy the size of an elephant!"

In an instant, an aggravated growl had her staring back at Blondie. "Stop with the animal comparisons!"

Odion heaved an exhausted sigh, and Mar had to wonder if he'd even slept yet. Poor guy, if he hadn't. It was around three in the morning. "She insisted on seeing her cousin at the earliest, Master Marik."

"Plus Jordy can't carry all your crap at the beach house alone!" Amara added, her hazel eyes sending daggers his way. "So tell me where she—wait, have you been drinking? You majorly reek of wine!"

"Miss Amara," Odion stepped in, the slightest touch of irritation in his otherwise calm tone. "Perhaps you and Jordan should begin your walk to the beach house—"

"Not until I know Ish is safe!" Amara insisted, turning to Marik. "So where is she, asshole?!"

"I killed her and ate her heart," he mumbled.

"YOU KISSED HER AND  _ATE HER OUT_?!"

Marik's eyes flew wide, bloodshot red completely surrounding lavender irises. "I  _what_?!" he screeched, leaping to his feet with a stumble. "No!  _I did not eat her out_ —"

"Oh thank God!" Amara breathed, pressing a tanned hand to her chest. Then she tensed, her black brows gathering. "Wait a mo. You didn't deny the… Oh, hell no! You kissed her and  _she fell apart_?!"

"I suggest you shut that deafening mouth of yours before I do it for you."

Amara scoffed, crossing her arms wilfully. "And just how do you plan on doing that, huh? I don't see your creepy rod anywhere."

Marik revealed an infuriatingly smug smirk. "Last night, I learned by consensual means that your cousin has a birthmark shaped like a stickman just above her—"

"Consensual, my ass!" Amara roared, her eyes blazing as she lunged for the blond. Two firm hands gripped her shoulders, rooting her to the sandy ground before she could reach her target. "Did you fucking touch her, you  _sick freak_!?" She failed to shake free of Odion's vice-like grip. "You better not have fucking touched her! Or- Or I'll—"

"You'll what?" Marik tore through her words, apparently finding her reaction hilarious. That is, if his ear to ear grin was any indication. A throaty laugh soon followed. "You're powerless, little Amara." His eyes narrowed as he stared her down. "Just like  _she_  was."

Odion chose that moment to speak up, somehow sounding stern and soothing in a single breath. "That's enough, both of you."

Amara stilled, glancing back at the burly man. Even in the shoddy lighting, she caught a ghost of a frown on his full lips as he met her gaze.

"I can assure you, Miss Amara, he hasn't harmed your cousin."

Amara blinked, puzzled. "Then how did he know where her…" She stopped herself as a terrifying fact slapped her hard across the face.  _She_  knew where her cousin's birthmark was. "Ohhhhh!" Mar's stomach churned as she shot the blond another glare, noting his smirk was gone for some reason. "Your fancy twig better be the  _only_  reason you know, you—"

"Odion, the girl is correct in thinking that the Millennium Rod is not on my person."

"Uhh…  _Rude_!" Amara squawked, going straight as a board, though Odion's hands on her shoulders made that difficult. "I was  _kinda talking_!"

Marik ignored an irked shriek from his far more vexing captive. "And there are only two people here I'd trust to retrieve it for me. You and Bryn."

An enthusiastic "woohoo, he trusts me!" echoed across the beach from the nearby half Irish, half Nepalese boy.

Meanwhile, Odion nodded curtly at his boss. "I understand, Sir." His attention turned to the girl that wriggled in his grasp. "Miss Amara?"

She felt his grip loosen on her shoulders. With an aggravated sigh, Mar turned her back on the arrogant blond to stare up at Odion. The older man didn't miss her pout.

"Yeaaah, Odion?"

"I know you wish to see your cousin, however I think it best that I find her and bring her back here while you wait in the rowboat."

"Quietly," Marik added, earning another glare from the girl.

Amara exhaled softly. There must've been a reason Odion wasn't inviting her along, and she knew insisting on finding A'isha on her own was pointless. Marik would never let them be alone together off the boat, or even alone  _apart_  off the boat. She was his ticket to keeping Ish in check, a fact she knew terribly well.

"But why've I gotta wait in the rowboat, Odion?" Mar crowed, her pout never ceasing. "I thought I was gonna help Jordy grab the luggage from the holiday home?"

"I think it would be best that Bryn and Jordan are tasked with retrieving Master Marik's and Miss A'isha's luggage." Odion showed a soft smile, his hand dwarfing her petite frame as it lightly re-settled on her shoulder. "Also, I believe their task will take longer to accomplish than mine will. If you wait in the rowboat, you'll definitely be here when I return with Miss A'isha. I'm sure she'll want to see you at the earliest."

Out of the blue, Amara perked up. "Okay!" she chirped, uplifted by the prospect of seeing Ish sooner. Her firmness returned a second later. "But I dohave  _one_  condition."

Behind her, Marik snorted. "Yes, it's called ADHD."

Amara glowered his way, before beaming back up at her second favourite Rare Hunter; her first was Jordan, of course, but Odion  _had_ helped her get warm after that dip in the ocean on day one of their kidnapping. She gave him credit for that.

"My one condition is that  _he_ ", she thrust a finger Marik's way, "has to be quiet too!"

"That implies I actually  _want_  to talk with you."

"No!" Amara hissed through her teeth. "It implies you want to talk  _at_ me, jerk-face!"

Aaand now the Egyptian was grinning, his teeth blindingly white against his deeply tanned skin. "Perhaps you're a little more like your obstinate cousin than I first estimated."

"You  _wish_ ," she muttered, sticking her nose in the air.

Despite his slight, drunken sway, Marik rose to his full height before the short girl. "And just what are you implying by that?"

Amara laughed dryly, tapping a finger to her bottom lip in fake thought. "Hmm. I dunno. Maybe that you're  _that_  annoying boy from school that badgers the hell outta the girl he's so _obviously_  crushing on!"

"I  _don't_  like A'isha!"

"You never denied kissing her!"

"I never confirmed it either!"

"Sooo, Marik," Bryn jumped in, ceasing his spectating from the side-lines, "where'd you say your rod was again?" The lad peered back at Jordan, whose brown eyes were glued to his bare feet, having always been uneasy around Marik's snippy side. "I reckon Jordy and I should make a start for your fancy holiday home, Sir." He cleared his throat behind a lightly tanned hand. "If that's okay?"

Amara exhaled loudly as Marik started to explain, with a bit of a slur, how the two boys would find the holiday home. Her pout returned as she stomped toward the rowboat, telling herself that boredom was her only reason for cooperating. And maybe Odion's niceness.

x

A'isha straightened, squinting out at the darkness.  _Did I just hear Amara—?_

Somewhere along the beach, a string of unintelligible squawks quickly answered that question.

"I wonder what she's doing here…" Her features warped with curiosity.  _And if she's here, then I wonder who else is with her… aside from Jordan, of course._

All of a sudden, A'isha deadpanned. "Hold on," she breathed, suffering from a particularly painful realisation.  _Assuming the ship's arrival wasn't premeditated, Mr Off His Face had to reach them somehow and the rod's back at the holiday home so—_

A'isha sucked in a mortified gasp. "No," she drawled, disbelief dripping from the word. "No no no no  _no_. The jerk has his phone him!" She leapt to her feet, giving thought to smacking her head against the cliff face. "He's had his phone on him this whole freaking time! The  _whole time_  we were talking!"

She could've cried. Heck, she almost did.

Again.

"I bet the drunk moron would've begged me to use to damn thing if I'd asked for it! Okay. Well, maybe he wouldn't have begged me, but—Argh! I could've called Ahad, even the local cops!" She paused, hastily piecing her thoughts together. "Marik would've had Amara though… Wait, but the cops would've come to us, so he would've been arrested without the rod in his possession and…"

Her face slowly fell.

"Why do these thoughts make me feel like I'm…"

A'isha didn't bother to end that sentence. She didn't need to. An odd sense of guilt was already throwing her for a loop, whispering bitter blames of betrayal in her ear.

"But doesn't he deserve to be locked away for good?"

Upsettingly, that wasn't a rhetorical question, and she found herself facing an answer she didn't like.

"This  _has to be_  Stockholm Syndrome."

She hoped—

The swishing of sand shot her back to reality. Her eyes snapped left, almost instantly spotting a brawny silhouette taking smooth strides toward her, about twenty feet away. She only knew of one buff, nearly bald Rare Hunter, and knew exactly who that shadow belonged to. To say she was relieved was an understatement. Her first, fleeting thought had been that Sir Jerk-A-Lot was coming for round two or something.

Odion emerged from the darkness a moment later, close enough to confirm his identity with absolute certainty. She briefly made note of his long-sleeved sweatshirt and black cargo pants, the latter held in place by two hefty belts. His bare feet made for a rather odd contrast.

A'isha sunk to the sand, crossing her legs. "Hey, Odion." Her gaze travelled to the still sea ahead.

"Good evening, Mi—A'isha."

She almost smiled at his efforts to drop the 'Miss', only to remember her evening had been anything but good.

Odion flourished a hefty hand toward the sand beside her. "May I?"

"Knock yourself out."

He didn't do that, but he did claim the spot beside her, his hands resting in his lap as he folded his muscly legs.

A'isha sighed. "He called you, huh?" She glanced left upon hearing the ruffles of clothing, and found herself staring at a sleek Motorola flip phone.

"Actually, he sent me this."

' _Oh Ra jus kiss Ish. . Im hammerhead!$' sav me. And hurr. Yea. Her too. JUust save s both. K thnks bye'_

At any other time, A'isha might've heaved over with laughter. Instead, she glared ten times harder at the lovely reminder. "He almost sounds sorry," she muttered, staring back at the ocean.

"He is."

"Too bad I had to hear it through you," she scoffed, her glare only hardening. "And I thought he dragged me here because the boat wasn't gonna make it in time. Or was that just his excuse to get me alone for four whole days of torture?"

"He misbehaved that much?" She didn't miss the humour to the query.

"Whata  _you_  think?"

Odion shrugged. "I've only heard his side of the story." He showed a small smile. "It seems as though he's enjoyed your company greatly."

"Oh yeah!" A'isha snorted, cynicism strung through her words. "So much that the only way to make my company greater was with a good snog."

Odion had to laugh at that. "Perhaps you'd like to share your side of the story?"

A'isha went rigid, her stomach swirling with unease. "Nothing against you, Odion, but I… I'm not good at that stuff."

"At telling a story?"

"At opening up to people." She hesitated, disturbed by the mere idea of doing that to anyone who'd played a part in her kidnapping. It was hard enough opening up to her loved ones. "I've… never tried story-telling. Well, except for at school once or twice."

"We all tell tales, A'isha. Some are tall and others are a little more realistic."

"And some  _seem_  tall, but are actually quite the opposite." A'isha cleared her throat rather awkwardly. "That is… uhh… they're unbelievable, but actually happened… not that they're short." Boy, was she exhausted.

"Like your story, perhaps?"

" _My_  story?" A snort sounded in her throat. "Ha. My story's nothing worth writing about. Just the same shit, a different day." Without even thinking, she'd started drawing circles in the sand. "Each chapter I'm tortured by some psychopath, whether it's a she-wolf disguised a sheep, a fruitloop from school or a creep with a magic stick. Granted that last one's kinda crazy but…" She groaned in frustration. "Jeez. Is it bad that I'd rather be here with him than in my own house?" Her voice cracked with that last word. "Not because I like him, but… but because I hate her that much."

Just when she thought the waterworks were drained dry, another rush of tears had her sobbing. Humiliated, she shied away from her company, but not before catching concern on his swarthy face.

"S-Sorry," A'isha blubbered, only to chuckle despite herself. "There I was s-s-saying I s-suck at… at opening up and lo and behold, I open up the heavens with my s-stupid tears!"

"Don't apologise, A'isha," Odion murmured, the softness of his voice calming her instantly. "It's best you let it out sooner rather than later."

"Why's that? So I don't have a mental breakdown in front of Marik or his lackeys?"

"Because holding in your emotions is a slow-acting poison. Of the mind and the heart."

Well, that escalated quickly.

A'isha smeared away the tears, hating the fact she'd done so half a bajillion times tonight… err, this morning? "I guess I'm screwed," she mumbled, "'cause I've been holding my emotions in for years."

"You're a lot like him, you know."

Had someone else said it, Ish might've been insulted. But when the comparison came from Odion, she somehow saw the truth behind it. They were both stubborn and prideful, snarky and scarred by one who was meant to protect them. And they both sucked at baring their soul. Kind of made her wonder what  _she'd_  say or do after downing a bit of alcohol.

"So does he hold his emotions in? Or just plain old ignore them?" In that moment, another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. "He holds it in until it all pours out through a panic attack, right? Like it did three months back."

"I'm surprised he told you that." His startled expression suggested as much.

"Only after helping me with one a few night's back," A'isha answered quietly, her pride shrinking at the rather embarrassing admission. "He… uhh… He said he knew how to help because he'd had one three months before his sixteenth birthday." She continued to sketch circles in the sand. "At the time I thought he was twenty-two, though." She paused, glancing up at him. "He  _is_  sixteen today, right?"

Odion nodded curtly.

"Are you his older brother?"

It seemed like he'd been expecting that question, given his lack of surprise. "Not through blood," he answered quietly, "but sometimes the strongest bonds are built through loyalty and hardship."

"So you love him, huh?"

"I do. Very much."

Something about that made her a smidge happier, though the reflections that followed soon swept that short-lived joy from existence. "It must hurt to see him so… y'know." Gosh, it certainly hurt  _her_ to see the way Amara acted a lot of the time. Almost felt like she'd failed her as the older cousin.

In fact, it felt exactly like that.

Odion frowned at the ground, sorrow creeping its way across his countenance. "On the surface, my brother is… misguided."

"That's gotta be the nicest 'I love my brother, but he annoys the shit outta me' that I've ever heard."

Odion let out a hearty laugh. She liked to think the reason for that was mostly because it was true. "Believe me when I say that as a child, Marik was so open… so caring… so full of life." Any amusement was gone from his face, dejection replacing it.

"Was it the carvings that messed him up? Or his dad?" A'isha regretted the query the second his dejection doubled.

"To put it simply, both." Odion hesitated, pensiveness swirling in his olive eyes. "Though nothing is ever quite so simple."

The next few minutes were spent in a solemn silence. That only made his next words seem that much more ominous.

"You know, sometimes the greatest danger to one's self comes from within."

Ish didn't even know what to make of that line, let alone how to respond to it.

When Odion uttered her name, the seriousness strewn through the address had her eyes snapping his way. "Not a single soul on this planet can take on life alone, much less bear the brunt of another's struggles." His eyes lowered as a frown formed on his lips. "Please remember that."

A'isha caught herself smiling. "Y'know, someone back home once told me something similar. That someone's basically my mum and like you and Marik, our love sort of formed from hardship and loyalty. She was my shoulder to cry on as a kid… still is, along with her daughter." Her smile gave way to light laughter. "Guess I'd better start listening to you guys." She flashed him a cheeky smirk. "And so should you."

When Odion merely chuckled, she had a hunch he knew that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. Not with his jerk of a brother for a boss.  _If only Marik cared enough to see how much he's hurting those that care about him._

A'isha heaved a sigh, suspecting a snowball stood a better chance in hell. "Anyway," she announced, dragging herself to her feet, "I think I'm all cried out." She smiled. "I'm actually kind of excited to see Amara." Her smile twitched. "Feeling quite the opposite about seeing Marik right now, but… well… I've gotta face him eventually." Now that smile was a full-on scowl. "Later today, actually." Hope sparked to life as she eagerly asked, "Or is that dinner a no-go thanks to the killer hangover and undying humiliation he'll be enduring all day?"

Odion found his feet with a little more energy than his company, and spared a few seconds to dust the sand from his pants. "Marik isn't one to cancel an engagement." He smiled wryly. "Let alone  _two_."

Of course, he was referring to both the dinner engagement and the freaking fake engagement.

"You guys must be brothers," A'isha muttered, grimacing. "You both love to torture me, apparently."

His only response to that was a snicker.

"But seriously, Odion. How am I supposed to be a convincing fiancée after all the crap he's put me through tonight?"

"I assume that question will be answered later today," he answered, the mirth gone from his voice, "after everyone has savoured a good night's rest."

"Gee, I  _can't_  wait… for an answer to that question, I mean. Sleep sounds marvellous right about now." The grimace vanished with her next words. "By the way, thank you, Odion… I still feel like crap, but I feel a lot less crappy than I did before you got here."

"I should be the one thanking  _you_ , A'isha."

"Huh?" She blinked blankly. "For what?"

"For taking him off my hands for four whole days."

That earned a wholehearted laugh from both of them. "Well, you're welcome for the short-lived vacay," she said, her eyes twinkling in the wake of her laughter. "Here's hoping we  _both_  get one soon. A  _real_  one."

"One can only hope."

x

A thrilled shriek, a few splashes, and the quick thumping of feet. Those three sounds were enough to know she should brace herself. In spite of the shadow perched on the suspiciously sofa-like shape, A'isha caught herself smiling. No, not smiling. She was grinning. Even beaming.

"Ishy, Ishy, Ishy, Ishy!"

And now she was laughing, loud and wholehearted, as Amara pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. "Jeez, Mar," she wheezed, her cousin clinging onto her like a baby chimp. "It's like you haven't seen me in four days or something."

Amara peeled away from A'isha just enough to grin up at her. "Girrrl, it feels like an  _eternity_  since I've seen you!" No sooner had she said that, Ish was lurched into a second hug.

A'isha squeezed her back, somehow forgetting all about their audience. "I've missed you too, Mar. Like, seriously. You have no idea."

"The creep was that bad, huh?"

Ish knew Mar was only half-joking. "He didn't hurt me, Mar. I promise." She figured scarring her for life with his lips didn't count.

"You sure, Ish?" Amara asked, oddly quiet. She only ever used that tone when she was dead serious.

A'isha forced a smile, nodding fervently. "You betcha. I'm super cereal." She snickered as Amara pulled a face, for she knew exactly what the younger gal was thinking.

"Dude, that saying's so confusing," Amara mused, cocking her head to the right. "Like, are you actually serious or is that code for 'he totally hurt me but he's sitting right over there so I can't be obvious'?"

"Fortunately, I'm serious." A'isha spared a glance toward Marik. She was sure she'd seen his shadow stir, like he'd quickly looked away. The jerk had probably been eavesdropping, the very reason her seriousness was fortunate.

Amara followed her line of sight, before realisation flashed through her hazel irises. "Oh duh. I just ruined the 'maybe code, maybe not' anyway," Amara piped up, reclaiming her cousin's focus, "I swear I'm still tryna find those fifteen blonde hairs."

"Why fifteen?"

"One for each birthday, silly!"

A slight frown tugged at A'isha's lips as she remembered what day it was; not just for her, but for Marik as well. How she could possibly sympathise that mind-reading maniac was beyond her!

"Uhh… Ish?"

A'isha blinked back to reality, shivering slightly. At that point she realised Amara had ended the embrace, concern contorting her features.

"Are you  _sure_  you're okay, Ish?"

Sheepish, she cleared her throat. "Yeah, I'm… fine."

"If you say so," Amara drawled, unconvinced. That did nothing for A'isha's nerves. If she couldn't act fine in front of her ditsy cousin, how would she possibly act like she loved Sir Jerk-A-Lot in front of… whoever the dinner was with? Especially after their unbelievably awkward encounter tonight! She wasn't even sure she could look him in the eye right now.

"Umm, Ish? Do ya wan' a cookie, maybe? Chocolate chip! Me and Jordy baked them just today and I thought after four days of jerk-face, you might wan' a lil' somethin' somethin' to stress-eat!" Amara eagerly rocked on her feet, toe to heel and back again. "They're seriously super tasty too… uhh, not to brag or anything. Okay, totally to brag but—like, we've got time to kill while the boys walk back so… might as well stuff our faces with sugary goodness, right?!"

A'isha's cheeks flushed with surprise, another smile finding its way to her lips. She had to admit, the thoughtful gesture was a lovely change from their usual bickering. Smiling at someone who  _wasn't_  her kidnapper; well, that was just a bonus (not to mention a relief). "That… That actually sounds  _amazing_  right about now." Anything sweet was a Godsend after the sour night she'd endured.

Amara squealed in excitement, her feet pitter pattering against the ground. "C'mon then, Ishy!" She bounded toward a rowboat dyed grey by night's touch, beckoning her cousin over with her right hand. "They're just on the rowboat! We can scoff em all down while we wait for the boys!"

x

How Odion was Marik's brother, even via adoption, A'isha did  _not_ understand. The hulking guy, unlike Marik, was the human equivalent of a teddy bear. At least as far as Rare Hunters went. That was the foremost thought to swirl around her brain as they bid the shore goodbye, Marik still slumped on his silly sand-sofa with Bryn casually propped on its armrest.

The motorised rowboat was way too small for six people, all of their luggage  _and_  Mr Metrosexual's many bags from his silly shopping spree. As such, Odion had proposed they make two trips to the ship: A'isha and Amara first, Marik and Bryn second. Odion was the driver, while Jordan had been tasked with returning the jet ski to whoever Blondie had hired it from and would presumably be picked up after.

So  _why_  was Odion the human equivalent of a teddy bear? Well, aside from the obvious reasons, A'isha just  _knew_  he'd had one goal in mind when devising that game-plan: make sure her and Marik interact as little as humanly possible, and ensure she's not stuck on the rowboat with him for any amount of time. She could've hugged Odion, and almost had.

Somehow, A'isha had remembered the way to their room. Not that it mattered. Odion had escorted them straight to their door, even insisting on being the one to roll her suitcase through the maze of halls. To say it felt strange to be back was an understatement. Yet strangely enough, she could hardly picture her own bedroom back in Alexandria.

Amara had ducked into the bathroom the moment they'd reached The Box, citing the need to 'pee tinkle'. A part of her wondered if, really, Mar was in the bathroom scrambling to scrub it clean. Hell, it was a miracle their bedroom was tidy, with just a few clothes shoved to one corner. Amara's bedroom was always a bombsite.

For once, A'isha hadn't complained on Amara's messy tendencies; they'd given her the chance to ceaselessly thank Odion for having her back, before he'd left her to fill Amara in on the past four days. She'd claimed there wasn't much to tell, partly to avoid a mountain of questions, but mostly to get to bed quicker. One thing A'isha had bothered to touch on, however, was the fact that Marik had been drunk enough that she was sure she could've used his phone without him batting an eye. Surprisingly, Amara had gone rather quiet after that, and they'd clambered into their respective beds shortly after.

"Hey, Ish?" Amara whispered, peering up at the single bed in the room from her thin mattress on the floor. She'd dragged it from the nearby closet, having insisted the older girl take the actual bed tonight. Alas, the mattress felt hard and flimsy next to that man-eating mattress from the holiday home; it still trumped Amara's mattress on the floor though.

With a silent yawn, A'isha idly rolled away from the wall, toward her cousin. The lights were off, soft streaks of moonlight floating through the lone porthole behind her. That was enough to make out Amara, her round eyes peeking over a thin, pale white sheet that seemed grey in the darkness.

"Why'd you plastic wrap the last cookie, Ish?"

"Mmm?" A'isha hummed, her drained brain sluggishly processing the question. An almost-all-nighter was enough to make anyone slow, and right now all she wanted was a wonderfully good night's rest. She'd sure need it for tomorrow. "Ohh… Why'd I keep the cookie? I… wan'ed to save it."

"But you  _did_  like em, right?"

A'isha showed a lazy smile, hidden behind her own ebony sheets. "They were  _so_  gooooood," she mumbled, her eyes fluttering shut. "Serious."

"I'm glad." Amara's merry tone certainly supported that statement. "Anyway, I can tell you're fallin' asleep on me so…"

"I wha…?"

"Good night, Ish," she murmured, a smile in her voice. "I'm so happy to have you back."

"Mmm… Me too".

"Nighty night night!"

"G'night, Mar."

x

A'isha was wrenched from a particularly pleasant sleep by the nearby squawks of crabby seagulls, their webbed feet stamping somewhere outside. Probably fighting over a fish out on deck or something. After a languid stretch and a yawn to go with it, she dragged herself out of bed, reality slowly sinking in as to what day it was. The day of the dinner date. The anniversary of her parents' passing. And—

The girl blinked at her suitcase, laying unzipped in one corner of the rather cramped room. "Weren't you zipped up last night?" A'isha asked the object, her black brows gathering as she approached it. She spied a torn piece of cardboard sitting atop her stuff and as she curiously plucked it up, glimpsed the logo for "Chanel" on the back. It looked like the packaging for a perfume bottle. One sniff and she realised it smelt like one too.

After flicking it over, A'isha spotted a note in fairly neat, chunky handwriting.

' _Heya Ish! I no 2days a sucky day 4 u so I did ur laundry and folded ur clothes away in ur suitcase. Hope u dont mind! Oh also Im makin pancakes 4 lunch and will totes bring u some! Love youuuu XOX :3'_

A'isha couldn't resist a smile. Sure, Amara had gone in her suitcase without permission, but at least it was with good intent, unlike Marik. He'd just re-folded her things to appease his inner perfectionist.

Amara, it seemed, was actually trying to get along; a nice change, to say the least.  _Why_  she was trying, A'isha could only guess.  _Did she really miss me that much? Or is she just relieved to know I'm okay? Maybe both. Maybe something else entirely._ It was hard to know for sure when it came to her cousin. Her brain sometimes worked in weird ways.

Ish crouched before her suitcase, throwing back the lid to find her clothes neatly folded and everything else untouched. At least, the rest  _looked_  untouched. She fished out another mind-blowing outfit, also known as grey sweatpants, an over-sized t-shirt and clean undergarments. The invigorating scent of citrus wafted through the air to greet her nose as she tossed her clothes over one leg.

A frown yanked at her lips as she fished something else from the very bottom of the suitcase. A polaroid picture. Dani beamed back at her, his smile as blinding as always and cheesier than the pizza in his hand. For some reason, A'isha just couldn't smile back.

"I'm sorry, Dani," she heard herself whisper, her bottom lip quivering. "I'm so, so sorry."

That photo had her focus for another five minutes, before she carefully returned it to its former resting place and ducked into the bathroom, eager for an extra-long shower after last night's events. She was sure she'd be finding sand on herself for at least a week.

After a particularly refreshing shower, A'isha sucked in the lingering scent of lotus flower shampoo as she shook slender fingers through her raven hair. She figured she'd leave it to air dry, not yet sure of how she'd wear it for tonight. That is, if she even went through with the dinner date.

Sure, Marik had made it pretty darn clear she had no say in the matter… but that was before he'd bestowed upon her that lovely, scarring snog that was actually anything but lovely. She hadn't been kidding when she'd asked Odion how the heck she was supposed to act like a convincing fiancée. What if his face alone was enough to make her speechless? Not in the good way, but in the shoot-me-now-I-just-remembered-you-smooched-me-last-night-after-confessing-to-apparently-crushing-on-me kind of way. Big difference.

Her thoughts were much the same as she quickly brushed her teeth, then spent a few minutes staring at the water-splattered bathroom mirror, once again mulling over whether or not she should toss her hair in a bun and be done with it for the day. After much deliberation, she settled on leaving it down, the beachy waves skimming across the lowest point of her shoulder blades.

With that, A'isha left the bathroom, pressing the wall-switch and hearing the wall slide shut behind her. She'd almost forgotten about those silly switches. "Okay. Now for the next thing on the agenda." She drawled out a sigh as she stepped over to her suitcase, her stomach squirming in anxious anticipation. Or maybe awkward anticipation was a more apt description.

In any case, Ish grabbed a pen from the floor beside her suitcase and, using the same sliver of cardboard as Amara, she wrote a brief note to the girl. Just a massive thanks for doing her laundry and also for the imminent pancakes, which she'd soon be back to gladly gobble up. After fishing the plastic-wrapped cookie from her suitcase, she slapped the lid shut and placed the note on top. The nerves only hit her harder as she headed out the door, just one destination in mind.

x

As fate would have it, A'isha was about to round her fifth corner when she quite literally bumped into the very person she'd been planning to see. Of course.

Immediately, her brain threw that frightening kiss in her face. She just hoped her skin was dark enough to hide the blush.

One attempt at eye contact and she knew he remembered  _everything_.

"Oh," she dumbly voiced; though thankfully, her filter was functioning decently today or she might've blurted out a blunt, "You look like you've been hit by a spaceship."

Instead, Ish cleared her throat sheepishly. "I was…" Another clear of her throat. "I was actually just, uhh, going to your room." Forming a sentence in his presence right now shouldn't have been so satisfying.

"So was I," Marik returned, his voice tight as his lavender pools shot somewhere over her shoulder. "That is, I was going to  _your_ room… not mine."

"Is it really a room?" A'isha muttered, crossing her arms. "I mean… it has four walls but—"

"I was going to  _The Box_?" Marik offered, and they finally made eye contact. He looked like he was resisting every urge to end it. She did instead.

"… Better."

For at least ten seconds, the duo simply stood in the hallway, the carpet oddly interesting. Then A'isha caught sight of the cookie in her hand, her blue eyes lighting up.

"By the way", Ish held the sugary goodness out to the startled blond, "Happy Birthday." She hesitated. "I know you liked those chocolate chip pancakes Odion made you earlier this week so…"

A'isha hoped she sounded sincere, if not a little half-hearted. Despite him still being the biggest jerk on the planet, her encounter with Odion had drawn out her sensitive side toward his little brother. If ever there was a day to be marginally nicer to him, it was probably today.

Even if  _nothing_  excused his actions last night.

Back in reality, Marik gave the cookie a pointed glance. "It's not going to kill me, is it?" he finally asked.

She almost laughed. "I wolfed down five of these guys last night and I'm still kicking," she reasoned, holding it out a little more.

Marik took it hesitantly, but she didn't miss the ghost of a smile he wore. For whatever reason, that nearly had her smiling too. Maybe because she might've just made his day; making  _anybody's_  day did wonders for her mood.

He slipped the gift in a deep side pocket of his charcoal cargo pants. And then did the unthinkable. He thanked her. Quietly, but  _still_. A'isha was staggered, to say the least.

"The cookie's just a bribe," she blurted out, realising her filter wasn't functioning quite as well as she'd first thought. "Okay. Not really. That was just a lame joke." Unknowingly, she chewed her bottom lip, and wondered why he'd started smiling. "I just thought you'd… umm… I thought you could probably do with something sweet after last night."

Thank God. Another sentence she'd somehow managed to form with reasonable success.

Marik's smile only grew. "I could say the same about you," he pointed out, sliding his hands into his pant pockets.

Hold up. Did he just point out that she could do with something sweet after… "That almost sounded like an apology."

"I believe those usually start with a 'sorry'," he countered wryly.

"Well, if we wanna get technical, they usually start with an 'I'm'."

"You've clearly been spending too much time around me."

A'isha bit back a grin, concerned that she even needed to in the first place. "Whose fault's that?" she asked, rhetorically of course.

"Touché."

Another awkward silence reared its ugly, unsettling head. This time, Marik broke it.

"I assume our reason for seeking the other out is similar," he stated, eyeing her inquisitively, "and perhaps relates to the ruse tonight."

A'isha fidgeted noticeably, reminded of the second reason she'd been heading to his room. The first had been the cookie. "Okay, I'm just gonna cut to the chase." She sucked in a breath, exhaling shortly after. It eased her anxieties, but just a smidge. "I know this will probably come off as an excuse or, I dunno, me trying to use last night to my advantage." The wary way he watched her did nothing for her nerves. "But I was already dubious of acting like your fiancée  _before_ last night and… well, let's just say what happened on that beach probably makes top ten on my list of 'most awkward situations I've ever been in'."

"Before last night, my most awkward moment was a supermarket visit."

Marik's answer surprised her, mostly because it had little to do with her declaration. Or at the very least, it focussed on the part she hadn't expected him to pay mind to. Now that she thought about it, that statement was strangely open for him too. Maybe hangovers dumbed him down enough to mingle with the common folk, otherwise known as  _her_.

"A supermarket visit?" she exclaimed, thoughts of tonight's dinner briefly taking a back seat. "How the heck can that be worth a number one spot on your awkward list?"

Marik pursed his lips and for a second, she could've sworn she'd caught sight of a blush. "You mentioned you don't think you can do this."

Well,  _that_  was an obvious attempt at avoiding a question if she ever did hear one.

"Perhaps," he continued, sounding as though he was on a mission, "there's a chance I can sway you by, shall we say, sweetening the deal?"

A'isha cocked her head to one side, curious. "Would the deal sweetener remove the awkwardness from the equation?" She already knew the answer, but he gave it anyway.

"No, but perhaps it will make tonight more worth your while."

A'isha bit her bottom lip, deep in thought. "All right," she finally said, figuring there was no harm in knowing what exactly he had to offer her. "Your bedroom or mine?" The harmless query had barely left her lips when the evil part of her brain went horribly south. The smirk Marik so obviously tried to hide only fuelled her embarrassment.

"We'll go to yours."

To her confusion, Marik suavely spun on his heel, striding back the way he had come. She dashed after him, her steps soon in sync with his own.

"Isn't my room  _that_  way?" she asked, throwing her thumb over her shoulder.

Marik spared a glance her way, something she found peculiar; when they'd walked side by side in the past, and he was on a mission, the guy rarely bothered to look at her when they were talking. Or had she just not noticed him doing it?

Ugh. Something felt different and it  _wasn't_  the awkwardness of last night. Whatever it was, she just couldn't put her finger on it.

"It won't be your bedroom after dinner," he was saying, "should you agree to my terms."

Dismissing the pinch of excitement that those first few words brought, A'isha instead focussed on the last few. "Wait. Are you  _actually_  giving me a choice in all this?" Her words were heavy with shock and a dash of doubt. "'Cause it almost sounds like you are."

Marik only smirked at her, a silent 'just wait and see' perhaps. At least, that's how Ish saw it. She humoured him, continuing to follow his lead. With each corner they rounded, she had to wonder just how close her potential bedroom was to his. One last corner and she had her answer. They'd stopped before the door directly across from his, and she felt her stomach flip. He leisurely withdrew a set of keys, unlocked the door in one fluid motion and eased it open, gesturing inside with his entire left hand.

"Ladies first."

At any other time, that cliché phrase would've had her rolling her eyes. Right now, however, she was too busy stewing, peering over at  _his_  door.

"It's… painfully close to your bedroom."

Marik answered immediately. "There's a reason the only empty bedroom on the ship is within close proximity to mine."

As those words sunk in, A'isha found herself feeling marginally less uneasy. He probably liked having no one nearby, yet here he was offering this space to her. Finally, she stepped past her company and into the fairly large space. Almost everything was white: the empty walls, the plush carpet, the various shelves, even the silky bedspread thrown over the queen-size bed. It was both blinding and oddly pleasant, maybe because the room seemed that much bigger as a result.

The crinkle of plastic drew her attention toward the doorway. Marik was unwrapping his birthday present, his expression one of indifference. Not surprising, given the wrapping was see-through. It occurred to her that she was frowning, realising that the only presents he ever received were probably from his brother. And now she felt sorry for him again. Splendid.

A'isha turned back to the space spread out before her, pinpointing the pinches of colour amid all the white. She noticed a portable piano tucked away in a corner, an acoustic guitar propped against it. Her eyes snapped back to the blond just in time to see him swallow his first bite of the cookie. She swore he looked impressed as he took another bite.

"Instruments?"

Marik finished his mouthful. "Bryn and a few of my other employees enjoy music, to the extent that they have a band. I asked him if he or his band had a portable piano or guitar to spare and it just so happened that they had both on hand." He maintained his nonchalance as he continued, "Do keep in mind, should your skills at piano or guitar be abysmal, they'll be removed from the room."

A'isha bit back a snort, not at all surprised. Fortunately, she wasn't too shabby at either instrument.

"Also," Blondie continued, "you're not to play them between the hours of…" He paused, his eyes shifting to the ceiling. She had a feeling he'd just remembered he barely sleeps. His gaze was on her a few seconds later. "For simplicity's sake," he finally said, sounding surprisingly sheepish, "don't play them between the hours of ten PM and eight AM."

A thought occurred to her. "When we played that game back at the café and you guessed that I play at least one instrument, I'm pretty sure I didn't elaborate on which ones I play. Or that I play more than one."

"I asked Amara."

She hoped he meant 'asked' in the literal sense.

"Startlingly, your cousin pays enough attention to know you play both the piano and guitar to some extent." He cocked his head to the left. "Assuming she was correct, that is. She was quite adamant of that, if not a little apprehensive of the intent behind the query."

A'isha smiled, relieved he'd actually asked Amara rather than using his fancy stick. Provided he was telling the truth, anyway.

She strode across the room and scooped up the guitar, mindlessly strumming it.  _Nice, it's even in tune. I wonder if Bryn did that for me._ She strummed around ten seconds of "Hey, Soul Sister", one of the first songs she'd learnt to play.  _I seriously have to thank Bryn later for lending me this stuff._

A'isha perked up a little more upon spotting a familiar, baby blue radio. She returned the guitar to its former resting place and stepped over to a short set of shelves across from the bed, the device sitting on top. "Sweet. You kept this thing."

"Of course." She swore she heard a hint of glee in his voice. "The CDs too. They're tucked just behind it."

A'isha inched the radio aside to find Adam Lambert's face staring back at her, wearing a generous amount of eyeliner and an intense expression to go with it.

Marik cleared his throat quietly. "Should I be in my room, knock on the door and I'll let you in to peruse my collection of CDs."

She hardly registered the way she beamed at him then. "I'd be down for some Ed Sheeran. He was playing on your laptop the other day, right?"

"Yes, I believe I was listening to 'Drunk' when you entered."

The song's title had barely left his lips when his eyes lowered, his cheeks flushing faintly. Her grin fell instantly. What a lovely reminder of last night's events.

Avoiding the awkwardness, A'isha ducked into the bathroom, noting it was just as blindingly white as the bedroom. Unlike The Box, there was a spa bath in this one. Hell, what was Marik's bathroom like if this one had a spa bath? It must've been next level fancy.

When she returned to the bedroom, Marik was munching away at the cookie once more. He only had a bite or two left.

"Hey, there's even a window," she pointed out, wandering over to the tiny porthole.

With a wry smile, the older teen held her hands to her hips, then held them up to the window to compare.

"Very funny."

A'isha simpered back at him, wondering if he knew she'd only done that whisk away the awkwardness. For once, she had a hunch he didn't. "Did you purposely give me the room with a window too small for my fat ass?"

"Why yes," he remarked, sarcasm laced through his tone. "In fact, I measured your hips while you were sleeping last night. You're a very heavy sleeper, you know? So heavy, in fact, that even the sound of me releasing the measuring tape five inches too soon didn't wake you."

"It's just concerning when you give me that level of detail."

"That's the point, Ish." He flashed a cheeky smirk. "It gets you wondering."

"Oh, you're so full of it."

He only laughed.

A'isha turned away from him and instead, begun to knock on a wall. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a knowing smirk from her company.

"What? Last week, Odion made it sound like these rooms are all set up the same." She knocked another portion of the wall. "I can't see a closet anywhere, so I'm assuming it's hidden." Another knock, this time sounding different from the last. She found the switch in a jiffy, the small square sinking into the white wall as another portion of it eased aside. "Well, would ya look at that," she announced, sending him a look. "What a shocker."

When her focus returned to the newly revealed closet, A'isha went slack-jawed. The shelves were absolutely stuffed with junk food. And not just any junk food. Oh no, they were stuffed with her favourite junk food: bags of popcorn with extra butter, packets of crunchy chocolate pieces to chuck in said popcorn, bars of chocolate filled with hazelnut mousse, chocolate-covered pretzels, and even mochaccino sachets to replace the chocolate syrup he'd been using as a substitute.

"Holy crap," was all she could say.  _This must be another deal sweetener,_  she thought, her mouth already watering; then she noticed a microwave on the very top shelf. "Is that the one from the kitchen?"

Marik simply nodded.

"I thought Amara blew it up with tinfoil when midnight baking?"

"That may have been a slight exaggeration," the blond elaborated, chuckling quietly to himself. "The thing wreaked of burnt brownies, so a replacement was arranged. In the meantime, this one was aired out and the stench isn't nearly as strong now." He shrugged. "I presumed you may wish to save a trip to the kitchen and use it for your popcorn."

A'isha nodded as she caught sight of an opened letter on parchment – that aged-looking, fancy-schmancy, beige sort of paper – sitting on the only empty shelf in the closet, around waist level. The very top had an insignia, two emerald cobras entwined three times from tail to head and hissing toward the uppermost corners of the parchment. She glimpsed the closing line, swirled across the footer in elegant script.  _'You'll know me by the steps I take'_. Had Marik left the letter there on purpose? Or maybe forgot to take it in his hungover state?

A'isha exhaled slowly in a slightly successful attempt at easing the wave of nerves the letter brought. She then stepped over to the bed, sinking into its super soft surface. Fortunately, she'd half-expected the mattress to be of the man-eating variety, so hadn't flown flat on her back into its super spongy surface.

"Something worth noting is that there are two keys to this door." Fleetingly, Marik motioned a tanned hand toward the door that led to the hall. "The first key locks the door from the outside and will be kept on my person at all times." From a side pocket of his pants, he withdrew a silver key baring a plum purple handle. "This key would be  _your_  responsibility and locks the room from the inside, though bear in mind the exterior lock overrides the interior lock." He coolly re-pocketed the key. "Should you agree to my offer, the interior key will be yours upon completion of the ruse and not a second sooner. That means, of course, that you'd be getting ready for tonight in The Box, not in here."

A'isha pursed her lips, her eyes drifting up and a little to the right as she thought over the offer. It was certainly tempting, especially as she'd already agreed to less. Well, perhaps 'agreed to' wasn't the right way to put it. Marik had said himself that her part to play in all this was not negotiable. He'd merely sweetened the deal by giving her and her cousin more freedom aboard his ship. For a moment, she wondered if he'd seriously take 'no' for an answer should she give it  _now_. Doubtful. And finding out could come at a cost; he might take back the very enticing offers he'd just made.

"I'll agree to all of this if you agree to two terms I have."

"And what might they be?"

"First term; Amara gets a squishy mattress like this one in her room." She figured the girl spent most of her time outside of the room, often with Jordan, so she didn't really see the need to ask for Mar to get more than that.

"And the other term?"

"Amara and I want food.  _Decent_  food, like whatever you have." She resisted a scowl. "So not that crappy vegetable soup you've been feeding us half the time."

"Deal."

For once, A'isha had expected the blunt response. Maybe she was starting to know him a little too well. She supposed that was better than the alternative, for she was better prepared for whatever he might hurl her way. Aside from out of the blue emotional confessions and drunk smooches.

"Alrighty…" The reality that she would, without a doubt, be playing Lady Jerk-A-Lot tonight was slowly sinking in. It was petrifying, to say the least. "So, uhh… what's next?"

Marik gestured toward the exit, a silent request for her to follow. She silently obliged, sparing one last glance at her soon-to-be bedroom before the door cut off her view. He locked it soon after.

"Be ready at exactly six o'clock." He turned to face her. "I'll escort you from your current bedroom."

Marik pulled out his keys and sought out his room, leaving A'isha to make haste for The Box. A sickening sensation stirred in her stomach and, try as she might, she simply couldn't shake it. The feeling was only further exacerbated as she remembered what day of the year it was.

A grimace warped her features, regret already eating away at her racing mind. She only hoped the strange feeling was terribly wrong.


	28. Chapter 27: The Dinner Date Pt I

**Chapter Twenty Seven: The Dinner Date Pt I**

A'isha somewhat ruefully shrugged into the dress, alarmed once more by how well it fit. She let the smooth cloth fall and run through her fingers. With every passing second, that sickening sensation had only intensified, regret overwhelming her weary mind.

She stared at the full-length mirror that hung from the door, which Amara had grabbed from Jordan's room sometime this week.  _I like a girl with some fire._  She groaned as the phrase far too calmly danced through her head, uttered through smirking lips on the night she'd first seen the dress. Marik thought he was so clever, picking an autumn hued gown that under the right light would look as if its wearer were aflame. She shook her head slowly before putting her hair in a messy bun, a few strands resting on her shoulders.

Looking in the mirror, she realized she held no anger toward the dress. What she loathed was the reason for the gesture, and despite that reason she smiled slightly, enjoying the shimmering orange as she let the cloth slip through her fingers once more.

 _Dani would have loved thi-_  A'isha's thoughts hitched, her heart sinking and the smile vanishing. First, she missed Julie's birthday on Monday and now this. And she'd likely miss Christmas with the Hughes family too. Maybe even New Year's Eve with her friends. As if being kidnapped wasn't splendid enough, Mr Perfect Timing had to pick the most eventful time of the year to do it.

She sighed sadly. The only thing at this point that made her anywhere near happy was that her cousin was naturally knocked out for once and was a surprisingly heavy sleeper today. The dress would be gone in two seconds if Amara were conscious. The fact that she would soon be able to leave this slave ship again was encouraging, something A'isha held onto in place of hope.

Her thoughts travelled back to the original agreement that had gotten her into this, and the rescue-mission-turned-dress-up the day before that. She supposed it could have been worse, at least this time she didn't have to be a gal in guy's clothing; yet she still cared little for this idea.  _Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably,_  she thought with a small smile.

She gritted her teeth as she remembered this term's final school play was Shakespeare's  _Twelfth Night_ … She had been chosen for the part of Viola, known for the majority of the narrative under disguise as the masculine Cesario. Two shows had been scheduled for this past week, and were probably cancelled no thanks to Marik. She shook her head. Why was she thinking about a school play when she had way bigger issues to deal with?

She yanked a drawer under her bed open to reveal a pair of grey flats, admitting to herself that her 'date' wasn't too cruel; he did buy her flats rather than forcing her to suffer heels. Her feet would thank him before she would even consider doing so. She slipped into them with a small sigh.

Bending down, she pushed the drawer shut. When she straightened, A'isha banged her head against the wooden bedframe with a frustrated "OW!"

Amara jolted awake. "Iiiisssshhh…" she whined softly. "You gotta be more careful. Some people are tryin' to-" Amara rubbed her eyes, glaring at Ish sleepily. She then blinked once. "That dress… looks- it looks amazing on you, Ish!" Amara bolted from the bed, nonverbally gushing over the garment. "What's the occasion?"

"That dinner tonight, remember?"

Amara's face scrunched up in obvious distaste. "But...what about Dani?! Are you sure there's no way to avoid acting as Soon To Be Mrs. Psycho Creepy Nutcase?"

"It wasn't negotiable," Ish reasoned, "and remember there  _is_  something in it for us: the freedom we've been getting on this tin can." She hadn't touched on today's negotiations with her cousin just yet.

"BUT YOU HATE HIS GUTS!" Amara sputtered.

A'isha hated how her first instinct was to argue otherwise. "Why does that matter?" she said instead, raising a brow. Inside, however, she felt more than a little crestfallen. Suddenly, the idea of pulling off a convincing performance tonight felt a little more plausible. She was already hiding her blues pretty dang well.

"I just- I really don't wanna see you become so horribly submissive. I mean, you and I both know Mr. Manipulative broke your heart when he ended that call last Saturday and ruined your perfectly good phone." Amara cleared her throat. "And for once, it's not actually about the phone," she quickly added as an afterthought.

"Who says I'm becoming submissive?"

"The Ish I know would  _never_  do something like this. She'd go kicking and screaming… And don't you find it a little weird that he picked out a dress that just looks  _ah_ -mazing on you? You're so… so fiery." She looked at it again, entrapped by the swirling hues brought forth by the dim lighting. "It's creepy… kinda sweet—but mostly creepy."

"Well, I got to pick what  _he's_  wearing."

"Please, tell me you picked something embarrassing… or something that has him shirtless. I bet he has some abs on him. I-"

A'isha hugged her cousin, surprised that for once she'd actually missed her boy-obsessed side. "Say… you wouldn't mind locking yourself in the bathroom until we leave, would you?"

"Of course I—" Mar stopped midsentence. "You like him. Ohmygosh! You  _like_  him, don't you, Ish?" She was bouncing on her heels, yet a hint of horror contorted her features all the same. The girl was seriously such a strange one.

"N-NO!" A'isha tensed with her hasty answer. "I do  _not_  like him. It's just that I did the same thing when you went out on… uhh… dates."

"Technically didn't  _I_ lock  _you_  in the bathroom?"

"Not the point, Amara!"

"Oooh, full first name warning. I'm sooooooo terrified." Amara smiled mockingly, almost making A'isha want to smack her. "All right, I'll do it… but can I do your makeup first? You picked the wrong foundation in Marina and it'll take for _ever_  to find the right one." She flashed a cheeky grin, "You should be thankful I 'overstocked' at the makeup counter, 'cause your sense of what goes with your complexion is about as bad as my sense of direction. And before you glare at me, you  _do_ need makeup for this."

"I am  _so_  glad to have you back." A'isha blinked, letting loose a sigh. At any other time, she might've laughed at herself; now, however, she was way too tense. "Those are eight words I don't ever want to use again when referring to you."

"You have no time to chit chat!" Amara almost snapped, pushing A'isha towards the bathroom. "I have a lot of work to do and not as much time as I'd like. I think we'd much rather leave your date- honestly, Ish, was your brain even functioning when you agreed to this?- waiting as I put the finishing touches on your makeup rather than the primer!"

Amara was more careful than A'isha thought possible, focusing most of her time figuring out what colour lip gloss would work well and what blush would best compliment. They wound up settling on a dark peachy hue for each after searching for a proper foundation, and blending some varying shades of brown in the crease of her eye for 'a little dimension'. However, the most complicated part was the mascara. A'isha was struggling to keep her eyes open as her cousin carefully bushed the stuff across her lashes. "Alright Ish, we're done." Amara heaved an exaggerated sigh, sounding like she'd just ran a marathon.

"One more thing, Mar. Toss me that eyeliner, would ya?"

"Ish, maybe I ought to do this."

"A cat eye is one thing I  _don't_  need you to do for me." Just as she was carefully drawing the pointed brush across her left eye, there were three distinct knocks at the door.

"Since when does Mr. Manipulative knock?" Amara whispered. A'isha merely shrugged, scooping up a small, long-strapped leather handbag her cousin had lent her.  _Part of the act, I suppose._  She left her cousin in the bathroom, hearing the wall slide shut behind her as she headed towards the room door and opened it slowly. She despised the weak-kneed feeling that struck her when she fully opened it.

The suit looked better on him than she'd expected. The dark purple and lavender striped tie and plum pocket square went well with the smoke grey slacks, suit coat and the white dress shirt underneath. The pocket square was folded in a two-corner fold in the customary left decorative pocket on the outside of the suit coat.

A'isha balled her fists at her sides, in an attempt to prevent her palms from sweating further. Thankfully her tell that she'd seen an aesthetically pleasing male was more discreet than Amara's embarrassing bouncing up and down and squawking in her ear. Not that it mattered. He knew her tell anyway.

Marik extended a hand to her. "Shall we?" A'isha was thankful she was dark-skinned; it hid her slight blush at his sudden, dare she think, chivalry. Wiping her hand discreetly on her dress, she nodded slightly and took the hand offered to her. She could have sworn she heard a dull  _thud_  as they left the room and prayed that Amara hadn't fainted.

Marik led A'isha outside, keeping a gentle grip on her bare shoulders as they descended from the launch to the dock. A rented black sedan sat in the dock's car park. He opened the passenger door and allowed her to get situated before walking around to the driver's side door. Only then did she notice the Millennium Rod was tucked under his ebony belt.

Marik seated himself, shutting the car door soon after. He rested his right hand on the steering wheel, his left one slack at his side. His breathing was deep and calm, and remained that way for about half a minute. His right hand slid from the wheel and squeezed A'isha's left wrist very gently, and the odd gesture was unsettling at best. She was sure that, for once, heightening her unease hadn't been his intention with the wrist squeeze. Quite the opposite, actually.

"Now then, A'isha, there are some things that need to be addressed before we depart." His voice was soft and delicate, as if he were coaxing a puppy into a car for a vet visit.

A'isha merely raised a brow, permitting him to continue as she nervously twirled a loose strand of hair on two of her fingers.

He inhaled and exhaled deeply once more before continuing. "You will need an alias…" he drawled, waiting for a reaction.

"Of course I'm going to need an alias," A'isha growled, realising just how tense she truly was. She looked on as he arched a brow at her.

"Did you think I was implying something with that?"

"You imply things whenever you speak." Like how he might've just been acting like an angel this afternoon to convince her to go on this thing, if the slight arrogance in his tone was any indication. Or else the hangover was getting to him.

"Do you want a say in your alias or not?" Marik quipped tersely, the gentleness gone.

"How about we split it? You pick the first name and I pick the surname," A'isha proposed tentatively.

"Asiya…" Marik murmured softly, and A'isha thought the response had been rather quick.  _Does he have a sister or something?_ She shook her head slightly.  _An old girlfriend maybe?_ She fought back a laugh. That couldn't be it.

"Asiya Toma?" A'isha offered eventually. She saw Marik mouth the full name several times, soon after dropping the last name and repeating the process with only the first; each instance found him forming the single name almost solemnly.  _There is definitely something holding him to that name._  She waited until he finished before presenting an inquiry of her own. "I'm assuming you will be under alias as well?"

"I believe you're quite familiar with half of my planned alias."

"Is it the first or last half of the one that got you into my house?" she shot back bitterly.

"I see you still have a bit of hostility." He chuckled lightly. "You do know you'll have to curb it for the duration of our date..." Now he was smirking, any prior solemnness having vanished. "That is, if you want to remain convincing."

A'isha clenched her teeth. "You didn't answer my question."

"If you must know, the first half is the one that will be easy to wrap your tongue around." His eyes laughed almost mirthlessly. "However, may I suggest using a different tone when you say it this time?"

"What's the new part, Namu Dear?" A'isha asked sweetly; it almost made her sick thinking that she would have to speak like this the whole night. Why had the idea of this seemed so much easier back in her soon-to-be bedroom?

"The second half is very similar to my actual surname."

"What  _is_  your surname?" A'isha queried, hoping for a single moment his guard would slip enough to reveal it.

"Do you really think I'd tell you?"

"Well, apparently we're stuck with you until it no longer matters if the authorities know your name, or else you'd never be able to let us go." She huffed. "And I've always been good at keeping secrets, especially from Amara…"

"I doubt that's difficult, considering you have done that sort of thing for years."

"Your surname," A'isha pressed, far from amused. She briefly caught a curious look from her captor, like he was wandering what had changed between now and their last meeting. Apparently, it wasn't a given that she'd be stressed.

"All in good time, Ish. These lapses on your cousin's part do not by any means translate into a disinterest on mine." He leaned his head back onto his shoulders. "I want our little act to be flawless."

"Like your face?" A'isha muttered mindlessly, before her face went beet red as she realized she'd delivered a poorly planned compliment. She reddened further as Marik smirked at her.

"I'm truly and utterly flattered, A'isha… but surely you know by now that flattery will get you nowhere," Marik stated somewhat sarcastically as he suavely changed the subject. "Are there any other foods you favour aside from buttered popcorn and chocolate?"

A'isha shook away the embarrassment, inching away from his inquiries. "Shouldn't we get going?"

Marik smiled knowingly. "We have over an hour to cement this ruse. I knew something like this would be necessary."

"So tell me what name I'm itching to take, my wonderful  _fiancée._ " She almost spat the last word out.

"You will be taking the Sharti name in six months' time." Her brows quirked at Marik's sudden tonal switch, embracing an almost briefing, to the point manner of speech. "You and I met two years ago while studying at Cairo University, Architecture and English respectively. We quite literally bumped into each other at the party of a mutual friend."

"And let me guess, love at first sight?" she offered sourly.

"I said two years, not two months! Honestly, will you let me finish?" Marik snapped rubbing his forehead with his right hand. "You don't seem like that type of circumstance would suit you."

"You could make it happen."

"Pretend that I can't get any female I desire whenever I wish, and also, understand that I would never stoop that low," Marik muttered, posture rigid with distaste.

"You did that with Amara! Or did I just imagine her eyes going absolutely soulless earlier this week?"

"I hold no interest in her." Marik stated in a flat, to the point tone. "She was merely available, and the opportunity was there."

"How do I know you didn't 'persuade' her to let you into our house?"

"You would doubt me regardless of any answer I would give you," Marik stated softly. "You should know the answer to that question yourself." A small smirk graced his features. "I recall, while attempting to assert that if your cousin knew what I was capable of, your insistence that she wouldn't help me regardless of how attractive she found me." He leaned his head back. "I would think  _help_  includes letting me into your home."

"It doesn't matter when! You still forced your way in!" A'isha countered, balling her hands into tight fists. "How can you use that thing on people without caring?"

"Don't get attached," Marik stated frankly. "I don't know why you would ask something as simple as that." He rubbed his thumb and pointer finger in a circular pattern along the edge of his suit coat. "And, if it will do anything to put your mind at ease, I would never force my way into a private residence."

"Why do you think I'd believe you?" A'isha asked softly, looking out the window.

"I don't expect you to." Marik gently placed his warm right hand on A'isha's bare shoulder, ignoring the way she tensed under the contact. "If you doubt my claim, it would be best to make efforts to conceal it." He let the hand drop to his side. "At least for tonight."

She sent him a glare, but made no efforts to shove his hand away. "You still kidnapped my cousin. You used her as a martyr to get to me. And what did you expect me to do? Leave her with you?"

"I wouldn't quite think you above it."

" _Excuse_  me? She may be a pain in the neck, but my aunt and uncle would kill me if anything happened to her!"

"So you rescued your cousin out of fear, then?" Marik exhaled, shaking his head lightly. "Why fear those who are meant to protect you from harm?" He laughed before gently grabbing A'isha's wrist and carefully placing it in the small area between the parking brake and the gear shift, very careful not to apply pressure as A'isha's eyes widened in mild apprehension. "You almost unwisely show no fear towards me. While it is true that you are safe with me, keeping you from harm has only been a recent priority…and you are probably aware that within the hearts and minds of man, priorities are always fickle."

"You don't strike me as a guy who enjoys being fickle."

"Your statement isn't exactly inaccurate." Marik's lips curled into a half-smirk, which faded quickly from his face. He released her wrist soon after and lolled into the driver's seat. "You never explicitly answered my question the other day."

"And just which unanswered question is eating at you this time?"

"Who's worse?"

"Elissa." She didn't even hesitate, though she did quirk a brow when Marik released a breath he'd probably been holding since the question had left his lips the first time. "Why do you care?"

A'isha regretted the usage of that phrase the second it left her lips, painfully reminded of his admission last night and exactly how much he claimed to care for her. She still didn't believe it, despite the slight, sudden flush of his cheeks. He cleared his throat – somewhat awkwardly, she thought – drawing her away from those thoughts.

"Just making sure I'm not the biggest ass on the planet," he answered eventually.

"If I'd been stuck with  _you_  for sixteen years I'd probably be giving a very different answer."

Marik bit back laughter. "If I'd been stuck with you for sixteen years I'd undoubtedly be a very different person."

She scoffed derisively.  _The only one of us who can use the term 'stuck with' here is ME, you little jerk. You would've been BLESSED with my presence for sixteen years._  She didn't stew on that for long. "Y'know, Mr Knows He's A Jerkwad, that almost sounded like a compliment."

Now Marik was the one to scoff. "You really enjoy nicknaming me, don't you, Miss Goody Two Shoes?"

"Beats being a contender for Mr Biggest Ass On The Planet."

"Give it time." He flashed a cheeky smirk. "I hear the meals we'll be enjoying tonight are exceptional; the desserts in particular." His smirk grew. "You certainly won't fit through that window in your new room after tonight."

A'isha shot him a glare, and he only just succeeded in stifling laughter. "At least I can lose a big ass if I want to," she countered. "You'll always be an ass on the inside."

Before he could continue the snarky exchange, she backtracked to a more serious topic. "So that whole 'you'd be different if you'd been stuck with me' thing… I can't help but wonder; in what ways do you think you'd be different?"

Any amusement was now gone from his face as he idly swept his hands across the steering wheel. "It's a reality that will never be. There's no point in dwelling on it."

"That doesn't sound like you."

Marik's amusement was back in a jiffy. "Is that so?" Somehow, this time his eyebrow raise was both curious and condescending. "What makes you think you know?"

"Well, I  _have_ been stuck with your bullshizz for a week and Mr Philosophical certainly seems like another appropriate nickname. I'd think this'd be right up your alley." She hesitated then, fighting the reddish flush that quickly rose to her cheeks. "D-Don't take that the wrong way because I'm definitely not finding excuses to talk to you or anything. I was just—"

"Wondering if I'm capable of identifying my supposed flaws?" Of course, his guess was spot on. "I claimed I'd be a different person. I never claimed I'd be a better or worse one." He smirked. "After all, Amara's lived with you her whole life and look how that turned out."

"Considering she's the daughter of Evil Elsie, Amara could've turned out so much worse."

His demeanour seemed to shift, intrigue shoving arrogance aside for a time. "You're truly not fond of your aunt, are you?"

"That's something that clued me that you didn't know her like you said when we met." She glared at everything and nothing, recalling the loathsome woman. "You wouldn't have thought so highly."

"Would I be wrong if I were to suggest she puts on enough of a face to dissuade anyone from thinking there was anything beyond what they saw?"

"We all put on faces, genius." A'isha huffed. "It's rather necessary… No mask means vulnerability." Her eyes locked with the carpet underneath the dashboard. "It's not something many will allow of themselves."

Marik was silent, his hands sliding from the steering wheel to settle in his lap.

"I doubt you even understand what that feels like," A'isha added somewhat meekly.  _Not since he got that stupid stick of his, anyway. Whenever that was._

"Do you truly understand what vulnerability is?"

A'isha had half-expected him to bring up his childhood as a solid argument against her claim, and wondered if the humiliation that came with bringing up last night's events was holding him back.

"No, I don't think I do," she said, grimacing. "But I'm sure the only way you'd know is because you make people vulnerable."

"There is no one immune to vulnerability," Marik murmured. "It has its place, only in that state of 'weakness' can the truth of a person reveal itself." He glanced at her. "What we are revealing to each other now is not what I would consider vulnerability. So what is your real reason for not sharing this with the family that cares for you?"

"Elissa spoils Amara and pays little mind to me, unless she needs chores done or someone to torture with her presence or something. In saying that, I'm quite content with the lack of attention I get." A'isha glanced at him. "I suppose the real reason I've never confided in them is… well… it's because I know nothing will change. I imagine that the lack of attention is part of the reason I've turned out the way I have." She sighed. "I know I would eventually resent getting spoiled… that's why I think Amara acts out so much."

Marik said nothing as he started the engine. Only when A'isha raised a brow did he bother to explain. "There are a few things that we need to pick up."

"Like what?" A'isha asked tersely.

Marik laughed. "It's a surprise."

With a frown of distaste, A'isha averted her attention out the window. She soon saw lines and lines of shops and bits and pieces of the sunset glow between the buildings as they zigzagged through familiar and at times not-so-familiar city streets.

"You look beautiful."

"Wh-What did you say?" A'isha stammered. She had avoided thinking about Dani after that stomach-flipping moment in front of the mirror. Ish gritted her teeth; it wasn't helping that she was on a fake date with the one who took that away from her.

"I know you aren't deaf," Marik stated softly. "Something is troubling you."

"And just how would you know that?"

"You're being a lot more hostile than you were during our talk this afternoon." Marik halted the car, shutting off the ignition. "It's rather unusual."

"Why are we here?"

"It's part of that surprise." Marik chuckled, exiting the car and opening the passenger side door. When he held out his right hand for her to take, she considered slapping it away, but she just didn't seem to have the energy.

Instead, A'isha accepted it, blushing faintly at his gentle grasp on her hand. Once she was on her feet, Marik smiled, sweeping his left hand out to the building in front of him. "Shall we?"

A'isha blushed once more as she followed him into the building. It was a jewellery store. She was surrounded by sparkling pieces, only a gentle tug on her arm prompting her to move.

Marik suavely stepped up to the counter. "Sir, I have two pieces under the name of Namu Sharti. I have come to retrieve them."

"Of course Mr. Sharti." The jeweller smiled, glancing at A'isha. "I only hope that your fiancée finds the ring to be a better fit so that she can truly enjoy it."

"And the other piece?"

"Made to your specifications."

Marik smiled as he took the two black faux velvet boxes from the counter. "I appreciate your services," he stated, and laughed at the sight of A'isha stricken speechless. "Come along, my dear."

"But it's all so pretty."

"I understand that but we really must be going; we don't want to be late for dinner after all." He calmly led A'isha out of the building and back to the car.

A'isha quirked a brow curiously, snapping out of her jewel induced stupor as they reached the black sedan. "What's in the box?"

"Close your eyes." Marik murmured as he set the larger of the two boxes on top of the car. A'isha hesitated for a moment before following the instruction. She felt a cool metal chain around her neck, and tensed as Marik's fingers very briefly brushed her neck to clasp the chain. Something about the delicacy of his actions had her mind drifting back to the odd and unsettling events of the night before… the way his hand had traced her cheek, or how his lips had gently met hers.

Fortunately, though, his voice soon tugged her back to the present. "Look now."

A'isha complied, and was breathless as her eyes caught the silver circular pendant, an amethyst set into the front. "I should have known you'd have an excellent taste in jewellery."

"You haven't seen the ring yet," Marik stated, opening that box next. A'isha's eyes went wide. The ring was gold with a sapphire and amethyst entwined in a yin-yang shape with small silver dots in the design.

"This definitely makes up for your poor interior decorating taste," she blurted out.

"I'm quite fond of my choice in décor." He smiled wryly. "You've yet to try it on. I didn't get it for you to merely gawk at."

A'isha merely eyed the engagement ring, unable to dismiss the sudden deflated feeling that buried itself in her brain. The seldom-seen romantic in Ish had never imagined receiving an engagement ring like this. To describe the moment as depressing was quite the understatement.

"A'isha?" Marik inquired gently. She prayed to every deity in existence that she was wrong to think he knew her current thought processes.

"S-Sorry." She inhaled deeply before hesitantly slipping it onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. "How did Amara know my ring size?"

"She doesn't."

"Then how do y-" Marik put a finger to her lips, with a wry smile that was becoming his expression of choice as of late.

"I have my methods, A'isha." His finger slid from her lips a moment later. "Now, I believe it is due time for us to depart." He opened the door and ensured she was seated before stepping around to the driver's side and seating himself. "Our destination is ten minutes from here. I suggest you embrace your role as of now." He glanced at her, a smirk playing on his lips. "If you fail I will be forced to rescind my end of the bargain and you will have no freedom to enjoy. Are we clear, my dear Asiya?" The smirk vanished and his voice became uncharacteristically gentle as he spoke the address that would lack the usual vexing amusement for the rest of the night.

A'isha revealed her sweetest smile. "Of course, Namu Dear." She batted her lashes, while in her mind her hands were around his neck. "You're my future. Naturally I want to help you to succeed in your business ventures in any way I can."

Marik flashed a gentle smile that left A'isha feeling a bit uneasy. The expression didn't quite suit him, as her first thought was he was plotting to make her even more miserable. Actually, the expression really  _did_  suit him quite perfectly.

Marik started the motor and began to drive. "I'm so grateful to have captured the affection of such a considerate woman."

"You deserve nothing less, Namu." She smiled slyly. "But my consideration can't be the only reason you proposed. Tell me, what else do you love about me?"

He's silent for the next two minutes. "I love your determination." A'isha found difficulty distinguishing ruse from reality as he continued. "I enjoy seeing your face flush when I surprise you." He pulled into the car park for the restaurant and parked the car. "And I admire your rather fierce loyalty." He caught the attention of her blue eyes for a moment as he set the parking brake. "I sincerely hope you keep it…" His glance turned to the steering wheel as his voice lowered slightly in pitch and his body went rigid as he lost himself in the past for only a second. "It is a dwindling quality that is hard to find." His forefinger and thumb rubbed against the fabric of his grey slacks.

"You… look like you need a moment to pull yourself together. And I need a bit of fresh air anyway." A'isha again twirled the loose strand of hair. "I'll keep a hand on the door."

"I'm shocked; you're acting as if I don't trust you…" Marik smirked, momentarily breaking character. "You wouldn't get very far."

"Actually, I wouldn't get very far in the right direction. I can cover a fair amount of distance in flats."

"You'd look very undignified."

"At least a loss of mine would only be temporary. Any dignity you have is a façade."

"I'd like to have that moment now." He watched her exit the car and to her word – though her height made it awkward – her hand stayed on the car door. He leaned back onto the headrest and closed his eyes. Perhaps he had nothing to worry about; the lure of keeping freedom aboard his vessel seemed to be keeping the girl in line. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, savouring the rare feeling of tension leaving him.

A knock on the window intruded on his bliss. His eyes followed A'isha's outstretched hand that pulsated forward with a mild urgency, indicating a couple with the male dressed in a pressed, ebony suit and a woman in a black, long-sleeved evening dress, complete with what might've just been legit, diamond-encrusted heels. Probably to match the generously sized necklace that covered a portion of the woman's collar bone.

He opened the car door and stepped around its front, noting A'isha's train of sight was focused on the male's feet. "What makes you think they're the ones we're meeting?"

"You left the invitation in my soon-to-be room and at the bottom it said 'You'll know me by the steps I take.' He kinda walks like you; well, aside from the absence of arrogance wherever he goes."

"What makes you sure that wasn't some sort of quote as a closing line?" Marik eyed the man, now at the door carefully before his attention shifted to the woman crossing her legs at the heel, right over left, relying on the wall to keep her upright. "As for his arrogance, it may show somewhere else. I suppose I'm lucky it's most prominent in my pace."

"Well, the line makes it sound like you've never met this contact… and he's looking right at us."

"I suppose I've underestimated you again."

"Fortunately, this time it won't cost you anything." A'isha grabbed his hand, aiming for casual couple vibes. She tried to not retch in her mouth a little. "Now, shall we?"

Marik made no complaint at the fact that he wasn't the one who initiated contact and they proceeded to the door. He leaned toward her ear halfway there. "Follow my lead." He felt a squeeze on his hand in reply.

A'isha found it nerving that his attention was focused on the other woman. Not out of jealousy, but it seemed like he recognised her. Her suspicions were slightly confirmed as his hand squeezed hers a tad too hard and he made sure she stopped behind him by placing his left foot in her path as they reached the door, where the black clad couple still waited.

"You must be Mr. Namu Sharti." The man smiled and extended a hand. Marik accepted merely to study the man over. Brown hair greying at the roots and steel grey eyes with a firm jaw, a modest beard that just covered his chin and a liar's smile…essential to one who is ruthless and yet must maintain some air of credibility.

"And who might you be?"

"Salim Nueb." The man shook Marik's hand with vigour, before his eyes landed on A'isha. "And the delightful woman on your arm is?"

"My fiancée." The words were defensive.

"Asiya Toma," A'isha announced with a gracious smile, and broke away from Marik to alleviate the mounting tension.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance." Salim greeted her with the same vigour. A'isha curiously eyed the exotic woman in the black dress, whose chocolate brown hair hung in loose ringlet curls that seemed to bring out the hazel of her eyes. "Ah, how forgetful of me." Salim stepped aside. "My assistant, Mirah Roi."

Mirah smiled half-heartedly. "Pleasure." She had a slight English accent, light and elegant with perhaps a hint of… French? Ish was sure she'd heard the woman's voice once before.

"You look very nice this evening." A'isha thought she caught a hint of a smile, but it was gone within an instant.

"As do you, Ms. Toma."

"Perhaps we should go inside." It was Marik who spoke that time. His arm gently curled around A'isha's lean waist, carefully ushering her toward the intricately carved, stone archway that served as the entrance. Their company followed their lead.

Unlike her company, A'isha couldn't resist a habitual "thank you" to the suited, smiling staff member who pulled the door aside for them.

"Perhaps there's a chance Asiya and I could freshen up before dinner?" Mirah asked as they entered the restaurant foyer. With absolute elegance, she moved to ask the red-lipped hostess at the podium and Salim was within arm's reach.

"You're safer with her than with him." Marik tilted his head towards Salim, and then deliberately smudged A'isha's eyeliner.

"Hey, I worked hard on that!"

"Well then it shouldn't take you long to correct it."

"But I didn't bring any." Marik quickly reached into his pocket and tossed the object at her. She caught it, baffled as to why he'd have eyeliner on hi- Never mind. "Oh honey, you really do think of everything!"

His lips brushed over her ear as he leaned close once more. "Eyeliner is the one thing little Amara hasn't perfected yet. She's dying for you to give her lessons. Make it worth your while." He drew back and she couldn't help but blush at the real, genuine smile that spread across his face.

"The ladies' room is to the right." Mirah returned, again with Salim a pace behind. "Oh dear… it looks as though you've smudged your eyeliner, Ms. Toma. Why don't we go fix that right up?"

"Good idea. I can never get him to leave my makeup alone… Men have no idea how hard we work on it!"

They were soon pacing into the washroom, where Mirah locked the door in one fluid motion. "It'll just be five minutes or so and I'd rather not have uninvited ears." She stood at the other sink to A'isha's right. "Your beau is a nice guy… I'd say it would take time, and of course, the right girl to bring attention to the fact that Dear Marik has a heart and can put it to use."

A'isha's suspicions were all but confirmed by the sudden assertive lilt in her voice. She was sure this was that Benu woman that Marik had talked to on the phone.

 _Please don't let me be using_ her _real name…_ Her hands found her temples, kneading them nervously. "Are you an ex of his or something? If ya want him, take him."

Mirah laughed lightly. "Oh no, his and my relationship – forgive the use of the term Ms. Toma – is more along the lines of a professional one. Plus, he and I complement each other a little too well. Anything beyond the odd game of cat and mouse between us would spell absolute disaster." She absently looked at her nails. "I also think he may still be on edge after the scare I gave him regarding his future; that happened during one of our first encounters."

"Him? Scared? I'd kill to see that."

"It's always rather interesting to see someone backed into a corner when that someone's usually the one with wiggle room." Mirah continued to examine her fingernails, rubbing her thumb along each nail. "Although to be fair, he was the genius who put himself there by refusing to negotiate peaceably."

"You seem to be more than a mere assistant."

"Want me to tell you if you're right?" Mirah raised a brow and showed a smile at A'isha's silence. "You're right and not. It's the role my boss gives me, but really my job in this scenario is to sort of flirt with the clientele… If they bring a date, I tend to not do it because I'm sick of how I have to be demure, pleasant and flirtatious with people who are either pleasing to look at but dumber than dirt, or smart as can be, but not… shall we say appealing." Mirah crinkled her nose and turned to face A'isha, who was reapplying eyeliner. "You're lucky… the man you're with has the brains and the looks. Almost makes me sad that I won't get to attempt enticing him this evening." A'isha nearly used too much eyeliner at that. "In addition, I'd rather not expose the game of cat and mouse between the king who has the fertility in his plans merely looking to a dawn after war and a princess who rises from ashes renewed."

"That was creepily poetic."

"Babylonian mythology… Better yet,  _Gilgamesh,_ Seek 'The Queen of Heaven'; she who bears the title within this epic shares quite a bit with your fiancé. Perhaps even a moniker."

"What is it with you two and your cryptic talk? Are you some sort of psychic or something?"

"No, but I did meet one… during a rather botched artefact grab. Said she knew I'd be coming which is a really horrifying first." Mirah twirled a ringlet around her pinky finger. "Never saw her face and she never saw mine. I'm even more surprised that she let me take the knife anyway, saying I was destined to have it… Anybody else, I'd think they'd be crazy, but part of me still buys it, mostly because she was so sure of herself… reminds me in a way of your date tonight." She moved to unlock the door. "I suppose you need a moment to digest all that. Don't keep us waiting too long."

"Your boss doesn't know about…?" A'isha wrung her hands.

"He doesn't soil his hands with research. It's a rather unfortunate preference of his." Mirah flashed a cheeky grin. "Which, I suppose makes the future Mrs. Namu Sharti lucky in more ways than one."

Mirah exited the washroom and was met by Marik, who still waited near the hostess' podium. "Where's Asiya?"

"She's feeling a little sick to the stomach." The smirk on Mirah's face did not go unnoticed. "She incessantly denied wanting children before marriage…" Marik was paling quickly. "Don't you worry your pretty blond head, Ms. Toma said it's merely a bit of car sickness and she didn't want to ruin the car." Her tone was deceivingly nonchalant as she continued, "By the way, did you enjoy the honeymoon package I left in your fancy holiday home?"

Marik barely fought back a scowl, recalling the roses, candles and who knows what else he'd scrambled to hide upon arriving at the holiday home last night. "Our table is that way, Ms. Roi." Each word was staccato. "I'm certain that your employer has more use for you than I do."

"I certainly hope you have better dinner conversation skills than these, Mr. Sharti," Mirah purred, enjoying the way he tensed at her baiting.

"Rest assured,  _little Benu,_ you won't be disappointed." The title left his lips smoothly.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but your fiancée wouldn't exactly be too keen to see you flirting with me… apparently you're unable to avoid flirting with disaster when certain pieces of your plans are so close…"

"What do you have now, you vexing little bird?"

Mirah smiled and leaned into his ear. "That's my secret, Marik." Again, the purr lined her voice. "As I recall, we never finished one of our previous exchanges. Perhaps we can do so over a private after dinner chat."

"There's no way I'm leaving my fiancée alone anywhere near your boss!"

"How cute…" Mirah drawled. "You almost make me think you care."

"You know him better than I." A small smirk graced his lips. "The slight bruise I saw on your face at our last meeting seems to be gone now."

Mirah bristled. "I told you then and I'll only tell you once more, that was merely a trick of the light." Her calm composure returned. "Perhaps you  _are_  wise to see to it that your little friend isn't alone with my boss." She flashed Marik a devilish smile and sauntered off, the clack of her heels quickly fading.

A'isha stepped into the foyer, having been lingering around the corner near the restrooms in wait. "Charmer, isn't she?" Ish couldn't help a small smirk at seeing Marik nerved, even glaring in the brunette's direction.

"You don't even know half of it."

" _Is_  she an ex?"

Marik finally looked A'isha's way, his glare gone instantly. "I've never had a significant other, Si." Her arched brow merited elaboration from the blond. "A little, shall we say, pet name for the evening, my dear."

A'isha merely rolled her eyes at the address. "So you really  _haven't_  had a girlfriend?" she said, more to herself. "Huh. No wonder you're sort of off your game tonight." She was briefly grateful that she had more tact than Amara, who would be childishly clucking "I knew it"… though admittedly she  _had_  given the phrase thought before deciding against it.

"Now then, perhaps I should see us to our table." He extended a gentle hand and again, she took it.

The table was in the inner corner of the restaurant behind a screen, where Mirah and Salim were already seated, facing the wall. Marik took the chair facing the screen across from Salim and A'isha took the one across from his assistant. A waiter arrived with a wine list and menus, then dashed quickly to another table.

"What business did you say you were in, Mr. Sharti?"

"Replica antiques of the Egyptian, Sumerian, and a smidge of Greek and Roman varieties." Marik removed some photographs from his suit coat's inner pocket. "A sample of my work." A'isha had to admit she was impressed. The pieces looked authentic, particularly one of a Grecian urn and another of Nefertiti's bust.

"All  _Sine Cera_?"

"No wax has touched any of the pieces."

"Surely you must have some legitimate line of work."

"By trade, I am an architect. History is merely my hobby."

"Quite a bit of dedication to a mere hobby. Though, the architectural training you no doubt have is evident in the detail," Salim remarked.

"Miss Toma," Mirah spoke up, a gracious smile lining her full lips. "Perhaps you would regale us with how you've become Ms Soon To Be Sharti."

As the spotlight painfully shifted to her, A'isha barely bit back a grimace. And just when she'd decided this Mirah woman seemed like she'd cut her some slack.  _What happened to girls sticking together?_ When A'isha glimpsed the ghost of a smirk the woman across from her sent Marik's way, it all made sense. It wasn't  _her_  that Mirah was picking on, but rather her date. She was merely a pawn in their silly, little game.  _Oh great. She's like a slightly more effeminate version of Blondie._

A'isha revealed a bubbly smile, though not so enthusiastic that it seemed out of place. "We actually went to the same university," she answered, sparing a moment to flash her faux beau a fond smile.

Despite the way he easily returned the expression, she'd bet her non-existent money he found her fake gushing hysterical. It was a miracle he wasn't smirking.

"And as fate would have it, we met through a mutual friend." She propped her right cheek against his left shoulder, and was sure she shouldn't have felt quite so at ease gushing like this, fake or not. "That was just under two years ago. We quite literally stumbled into each other at this guy, Aaron's Christmas Eve shindig. Both of us were sober, I assure you; I'm just a wee bit uncoordinated." She perked up even more so with her next words, her cheek leaving his shoulder as she merrily scooped up his hand in her own. "Namu, that means our meetaversary is  _tomorrow_!"

"Si, you just realised?"

"You know I'm bad with dates,  _Mumu_."

If Marik had been silently hysterical before, she'd bet her lucky stars he wanted to strangle her now.

"I'd like to dispute that," Marik returned, a cheeky smile curling his lips. She wondered if it was fake. "We've had a great many dates and I've adored each and every one of them; especially the date we shared just last night."

A'isha laughed, slapping him playfully. Inwardly, though, she wished she could slap him in every way  _but_  the playful kind. "Oh, Namu. You  _know_  that's not the kind of date I meant!"

The waiter who deposited menus at the table returned, cutting the exchange short. "Avete deciso, o avete bisogno di una qualche minuto?" The Italian came crisp and staccato, but still polite.

"Possiamo usare l'inglese per condurre la nostra attività, per favore?" Salim's assistant asked.

"Naturalmente"

"Grazie."

The waiter cleared his throat as he swapped languages. "Have you decided, or do you need a few more minutes?" he asked in a thick Italian accent.

"A bottle of your finest merlot, and the calamari." Salim indicated Mirah "And she will have the lasagne." A'isha watched Mirah's eyes narrow and her expression sour slightly.

"Is that correct, Miss?"

"Yes… that's correct." The smile was forced.

"Salad?"

"Caesar salad please." Mirah stressed every word, eyes fixed on the blond diagonally across from her.

A'isha only needed a second to glance at Marik before the desire to absolutely strangle him returned. "Honey," she whispered. "It's rude to stare."

Translation: Stop being an arrogant asshole.

The amused smirk at Mirah's expense dropped from his face. "Come now, Si… are you jealous?"

"If you don't stop making lovey eyes at Mr. Nueb's assistant, you may well find yourself single."

"Surely you jest… it's a bad habit, my dear Asiya." His hand found hers. "After all, your family absolutely adore me…" A'isha fought hard not to snap back. It worked, but just barely.

"My cousin fancies you… if anybody's jealous, it's her."

"She lacks tact."

"Ahem," The waiter tapped his pen against the notepad, his facial expression sour. "May I take the happy couple's orders?"

"Eggplant Parmesan over pasta marinara. No salad." Marik smiled as he ceded the conversation. "And for you, Asiya?"

A'isha smiled at the waiter; the poor man looked like he needed it. "The spaghetti and meatballs with a Caesar salad and a glass of water please."

The man didn't bother to scribble down their orders. Rather, he nodded graciously as he stepped away from the table, rubbing his temples.

"Wait."

The waiter briefly considered continuing the pace, before remembering his recent three day no complaints streak was on the line. It's not entirely his fault- his natural tone is a flat one that sadly connotes disinterest- it just happens that a lot of his customers mis interpret it.

"Yes, Miss?" He looked at Salim's assistant.

"Could you change my order to the chicken broccoli Alfredo please?"

"Of course I—"

"Leave the order as it is. Silly girl doesn't know what she wants," Salim interjected, waving the waiter off.

"Actually", A'isha inwardly tensed at the ice that entered Mirah's voice, "I know exactly what I want, and it is not the lasagne." Ish glanced to her left. Marik clearly knew something that Salim did not. The other woman's behaviour had left him tense too, slapping away any and all arrogance, and it seemed like his preservation instincts had kicked in. Oh, she wanted to enjoy this.

However, the silent stillness from him was rather short-lived. "If I may, Mr. Nueb… your assistant clearly doesn't care for your food selection on her behalf." Marik showed a half-smirk. "If money is the issue, allow me to alleviate that for you. I'll pay for Ms. Roi's order." If looks could kill, he'd be dead at the hands of a mere assistant.

Either Salim wasn't the least bit bothered by all of this, or he had the best damn poker face A'isha had ever seen. She was leaning toward the latter.

"The chicken broccoli Alfredo," Salim announced, showing a smile that could've passed as either pleasant or patronising. "Same salad please."

The waiter jotted it down. "Any other changes?" The table was silent and the waiter left, running a hand through his greying black hair with an exasperated sigh… He was getting far too old for this. He retrieved the wine and set it and four wine glasses on the table. Both Marik and Salim reached for a glass. Salim uncorked the bottle and poured for both himself and the man across the table.

"You contacted me regarding a warehouse, Mr. Nueb?" Marik inhaled the aroma of the wine, refined proper; the picture of a gentleman.

All the while, A'isha was wondering how the heck he wasn't gagging at the mere sight of the stuff, let alone the scent of it. Surely he'd spewed his guts out last night after returning to his ship. Heck, even she was fighting a grimace.

"Yes, Mr. Sharti. I did," Salim said, tearing her from her reveries. He swilled the wine in his glass with a little too much vigour, nearly sloshing a smidge on his suit. "Would you care for some wine, Ms. Toma?"

"No!" she answered quickly, barely keeping her voice level.

Salim glanced Marik's way. "I can understand my assistant not wanting a drink, but surely you and your fiancée have something to celebrate, Mr. Sharti."

Marik looked at the male across from him. "What makes you think you can inquire about another's drinking habits?" His eyes narrowed. "If you must know, Asiya dislikes alcohol due to her parents' rather unfortunate crossing with a drunk driver." He gripped his own wine glass so hard his knuckles were slowly going white.

He felt a nudge on his arm, then a gentle tug on his suit coat. He ignored it. He felt another, quicker tug on his attire. His eyes shifted quickly to A'isha, only needing a second to excuse himself and his fiancée from the table.

Marik calmly led A'isha out of earshot. "What is it?" he inquired with a tone that was somewhere between annoyance and concern.

"How did you know that?"

"How do I know what?" He watched A'isha's gaze turn to the floor.

"Wh-Why I refused the drink…"

He was silent.

"Did… did you use the-?"

"I didn't."

"You had no qualms about doing it to Amara."

"Your cousin's mind does not provide terribly scintillating reading."

"Yeah, well I bet you'd find my mind  _very_  intriguing!"

Marik tensed, gripping A'isha's shoulders. "You would  _know_ if I had done that." He paused. "I can assure you. It's often no more pleasant for me to do than it is for my…possess-ee."

A'isha snorted. "Oh, right. I'm sure that manipulating feeble minds pains you so."

"Stop it." Marik pressed his fingers into her shoulders. "You're making a scene."

"That arrogant smirk you get when manipulating others with that stick", she tensed at the acknowledgment at that detail, "hardly seems forced."

"It is merely a means of intimidation." Marik glanced over his shoulder, keeping attention on their table for two seconds and noting that their absence had no effect on Salim, who was currently rambling on to his assistant. "Clearly, it works if you think I enjoy it."

Oh, he was so full of it! "Even if it is, it's no secret that you get a kick out of it."

"Look who is getting into whose head now." His lips snaked into a small smirk.

"It's pretty obvious that you enjoy intimidating people. What creep doesn't like that stuff?"

"Anyone, when given a proper reaction, enjoys the results of their intimidation. It is the same as enjoying the results of a well-done performance." His lips curled into an odd half-smirk as he whispered in her ear. "Wouldn't you agree, A'isha?"

Without warning, Marik put his right hand on her left cheek, pressing his thumb gently to her lips. A'isha's eyes went wide and she had to resist every single impulse to slap him as he kissed his thumb a breath away from her lips. Ish could have sworn she felt just a hint of his lips on hers, another painful reminder of last night's events. She couldn't help a slight blush when she caught sight of a small smile from Mirah, who had of course glanced their way at the most perfect of times.

 _Humph, kind of wish I could've stuck_ them _together… See how she likes it with Sir Jerk-A-Lot…_ She wore a small, hopefully near imperceptible smile as the personal nickname ran through her head.

"We can continue this discussion after dinner," Marik whispered as he led them back to the table, where the waiter was setting their entrees at the places. He seated A'isha, then himself.

A'isha's stomach growled as she eyed the steaming plate of spaghetti layered with tomato sauce, topped with three large meatballs and finished off with a small layer of grated, fresh parmesan cheese. She started cutting the pasta into manageable lengths, meriting strange looks from the two across from her.

"That's not exactly how you eat spaghetti," Mirah pointed out.

"I can't quite get the correct method down… and honestly, I don't want to introduce tomato sauce to my ensemble tonight." A'isha set her fork down and gestured to the dress. "It would ruin the dress that Namu bought me just for this occasion." Well, it wasn't exactly a lie.

"Fair enough." Mirah smiled. "Care for some grape juice?" She gestured to the glass carafe on the right. "I'm Mr. Nueb's designated driver, but there's no harm in feeling fancy. Using a wine glass to drink anything that doesn't come from a grape is just a travesty."

"I'll just keep my water, thank you… I'm spill-prone." She nudged Marik after he huffed in a laughing sort of manner, no doubt hoping he'd remember that detail for his quaint little creep notebook. The action almost made him introduce the red wine to his own ensemble.

"Just because you're spill prone gives you no right to make me think I'm the same, Si." He laughed it off, but his hand grabbed hers far too tightly to be joking.

"Oh, come on now, honey; my elbow just slipped… I didn't mean anything by it." His grip on her hand eased. "Can I have my hand back now?"

"How selfish of me." She wanted to gag at the grin on his face… He shouldn't have been enjoying this so much.

"As I was saying before the subject of drinking habits came up – my apologies Ms. Toma – it's a great warehouse. Very spacious, should suit your inventory just fine. It's also along a nice waterfront." Salim passed a picture across the table.

"What is it you want in return, Mr. Nueb? You seem far too eager to get this off of your hands and into mine."

"All in good time, Mr. Sharti." The man took a gulp from his second glass of wine.

A'isha looked at Marik, who was ignoring his eggplant parmesan and simply rotating his index finger across the picture's surface. She wondered what was going through his head.

Marik was by no means spontaneous. He'd admitted as much during their guess-the-facts game earlier in the week. His mannerisms aboard his vessel were also likely an indication of how he conducted business, and she honestly had to admit that she would be surprised if he accepted right now at the restaurant. Even she would want a night to consider the advantages and disadvantages.

"If you don't tell me what you're after, what's the point of negotiating?"

"Now, who said anything about negotiating?" Mirah asked, hiding a wry grin. "Because any negotiations should be done with me."

"Again, the silly girl doesn't know what she wants," Salim laughed it off.

"I know exactly what I want, Sir!" Mirah angrily stabbed the chicken with her fork.

"Excuse me, Mr. Sharti. I need to have a word with my assistant."

A'isha was surprised that, for a change, she hadn't been the riled female rolling their eyes. This time Mirah was assuming that role, gracefully leaving her chair to follow her employer. For the first time since A'isha had seen the older man, she thought he actually looked a little peeved.

A smirk played on Marik's lips as his eyes left their company's retreating form to fall on his date. A live band started to play. What perfect timing!

A'isha's eyes were already fixed on Marik, and her sour expression said it all. "I'm not dancing."

"Need I remind you of our agreement?"

"I'm way out of my comfort zone as it is," A'isha stated firmly, "especially as I have a boyfriend back home!" Her eyes narrowed venomously. "That's really pushing it. It's inappropriate."

"This is an odd time to mention that. Is there some unresolved issue between you two?"

A'isha gritted her teeth. "Not. Here." Her fists were jammed at her sides, her entire body taut.

Marik dropped the subject of the relationship; her reactions were no longer amusing. It was rather dangerous territory to seek a reaction when it could wind up blowing the whole charade. He could not risk losing credibility when pieces of destiny were so close. The thought made his lips curl in mild distaste; though it was gone a second later, replaced by an almost sincere smile. "A dance between two individuals is nothing more than another form of the arts." The slight disdain in his voice only nerved her further. "I'd expect you of all people to know this."

A'isha turned in her chair to face him directly. "Can you please respect just one restriction?" she actually asked, rather than commanded. That surprised both herself and her company.

"Consider it this way," Marik began, his smirk again returning. "It's either now or back on the boat."

"Why? Is Salami not buying your charade? I find that hard to believe… the man seems downright laughable."

"Humour me… you haven't considered he might be playing a role as well?" He watched the girl pale as he swilled what little remained in his single glass of wine. "I want to see what Miss Captain of the Dance Squad can do and if her title holds any weight."

A'isha grimaced.  _Of course. . . How could I expect him to respect even one restriction?_

He laughed softly. "I can imagine which one you would prefer."

"Why the hell would I dance with you once this façade is over?"

"Exactly."

"Here's another choice you're not giving me—" He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it. "Oh sorry. I  _always_  have a choice."

"How quickly you learn, my dear. Look at it another way. After our dance, I may work up my appetite and be too busy stuffing my face with food to keep talking."

"You're bribing me with your _silence_?" A'isha laughed. "And Mr. Dignified and Proper stuffing his face with food? I thought I was engaged to a gentleman!"

"Who told you I'm not?"

"Um hello, you've done nothing but that since we met!"

"'Met' is an odd way to put it…"

"Would you rather me try for 'since you cajoled me', or 'since the first time I saw that stupid smirk on your stupid face'?"

"I hope you dance on the floor as well as you are around the question."

"You're insufferable." A'isha huffed as she watched him move from his chair to her left.

"I love you too." He again flashed that nearly genuine smile as he pulled her out of her chair and onto her feet. "Best squidnapping you've ever been on, right?"

A'isha groaned and rolled her eyes.  _When you have inside jokes with your kidnapper, that's when you know you're in trouble._

Marik led her out to the dance floor, where they quickly moved into a rather quickened waltzy jazzy hybrid to an instrumental of "Moondance." A'isha nearly lost her footing twice.

"I'm certain you can do better than this, Si."

"Let me lead then."

"No."

"I once had a dance partner with two left feet, so I had to lead."

"Is that so?" Without warning, he twirled her and uttered, "Lead on then." When she finished the twirl, she saw his gaze on her and nerve-wracking didn't even begin to cover the feeling it left her with as he leaned well into her personal bubble with his lips an inch from her ear. "Amuse me."

A'isha rolled her eyes again, before a quick smirk crossed her face.  _This'll show him._ She doubled the speed of the movements, hoping to trip him up. To her chagrin, he quite literally didn't miss a beat, matching the new tempo with ease.

"Try harder." Just as the phrase left his lips, there was an abrupt change to a recorded tango… apparently some poor brass player got a bit too into it and accidentally slammed their mouthpiece into their teeth.

Before A'isha could even beg to get taken off the dance floor, Marik carefully dipped her, the warmth of his hand radiating from right between her shoulders. Pulling her up from the dip a little too quickly, he smiled that almost genuine smile. "Well, well, well, that dancing quite nicely ignited my appetite."

She scowled. "Then why'd you have to dip me?"

"The music called for it," he teased, leading her to the table. "You make it sound like I was going to drop you."

"I wouldn't exactly put it past you." A'isha sat herself and swallowed her pride as Marik pushed her chair in, the picture of a gentleman.

"I fell for you, not the other way around." Only the sound of their company's footsteps stopped A'isha from demanding he drop the act. "And thus returns the vexing little bird."

A'isha glanced over at Marik, whose expression of glee at Mirah's clear discomfort to a degree made her want to puke.

Only when the other couple got closer and the distance closed did the expression change. And A'isha immediately understood why. Mirah's hair was slightly mussed, the ringlets now a smidge looser than they were before. A'isha swore she could see a hand shaped indention on the other girl's left arm. To finish it off, her blush was smudged and there was a ghost of a dark bruise underneath. It was somewhat wrong of A'isha to pray that it was just a trick of the lighting. She grimaced in sheer disgust, now understanding what Marik had meant when he'd said Salim might also be playing a role.

Mirah reclaimed her seat, while Salim exited back the way he'd come, claiming the need for a cigar. As soon as the patio door slid shut, Marik abruptly excused himself from the table, his entire body taut as he almost stomped toward the entrance, each step sounding like dread incarnate.

After a few minutes, A'isha couldn't take the silence anymore. And there was only so far on the fork the pasta twirled comfortably. "So… you're who Marik talked to the other night on the phone."

"And you're the girlfriend," Mirah murmured as she ruefully toyed with a piece of broccoli on her plate.

"Unfortunately…" A'isha gulped her water. "You know, I admire you."

Mirah went slightly slack-jawed as she set down her fork. A'isha couldn't help but notice the odd mixture of fury and fear that squirmed within her hazel irises when their eyes met.

"'Admirable' is the last word I'd use to describe my actions tonight." She took a small sip of her grape juice. "'Foolish' might be a better word, though 'necessary' would be another."

"If whatever you did was necessary, then was it really foolish of you to do it?"

Mirah gave a short, ironic sort of laugh, a scowl creeping onto her visage. A'isha knew the look wasn't directed at her. "Trust me," she breathed. "If you knew the details, you might just think me a fool for upsetting my dear  _father_."

A'isha didn't miss the scorn that lined that title. Mirah must've been talking about her employer… so the creep was the poor woman's father. She must've gotten her looks from her mother, then.

"I doubt I'd think you foolish." A'isha forced a small smile, cautiously glancing at the patio door before her next words. "And the reason I admire you isn't for the guts it takes to stand up to that Salami guy." Her spirits were lifted somewhat when Mirah laughed at the mock address of her employer. "The reason I admire you is because you give Mr I Make Everyone Uncomfortable a taste of his own medicine."

A'isha watched as the woman's eyes trailed along the path Marik had taken. Ish had to admit she was surprised that Marik actually seemed to care… then her mind wandered back to the drunken words of his childhood.

" _A father is meant to keep their child from harm… Not be the reason for their pain and suffering."_

Then everything clicked.

"Marik's not a bad guy," Mirah's words snapped A'isha from her thoughts. "Confused, yes. Arrogant, yes. Manipulative- well, you get the picture." She sighed. "But there are times where he's taken that seldom used heart out of his desk drawer and put it to use."

"I'd love to see that." To be honest, she sort of  _had_  on occasion.

Mirah pulled a single earring out of her purse. "My good luck charm… or at least a comfort of sorts." She placed it on the table and A'isha didn't miss the fact that Mirah kept nervously glancing towards the patio door every five seconds. The earring itself was oval – almost diamond – in shape, with a rather impressive emerald occupying the body of the piece, surrounded by somewhat intricate patterns in the gold metalwork. "It was my mother's."

 _Was…_  A'isha's face fell slightly as she thought of her own mother, of the dresses her mother left that she never received. Her mother's dresses—gorgeous gowns that quite resembled her own dress tonight.

Mirah didn't comment, and kept steadily rubbing the earring with light, gentle fingers. "I dropped this during my third run-in with Mr. Really Hot." Mirah showed the biggest smile as A'isha's expression soured. "Oh come on, you know it's accurate." A'isha's face didn't budge. "Oh fine… is there something else you think The R.H.'s infamous initials stand for?"

"Rarely Happy."

Mirah snorted in amusement. "Also applicable." Her gaze left the table once more, though this time she looked in the direction of the entrance instead of the patio. Her expression was resolute when it returned to A'isha. She slipped the earring into her bag, rose from her seat and slinked around it. "Follow me."

A'isha arched a questioning brow. "Uhh… Why?"

"Your fiancé has been gone for going on ten minutes now." A'isha watched as the woman's eyes trailed from the patio, to the entrance, then back to her. "He'd hate me if I left you to deal with Worst Boss Ever alone." Her expression soured. "And I'm inclined to agree with him."

"Wait-" A'isha found her feet, then followed the older woman's lead as she headed towards the entrance. "Are you actually going to talk to him?"

"I sure am."

"Is…is that a good idea?"

"Oh, for once I don't plan on riling him up if that's what you're worried about."

"That's not it. It's just that", A'isha hesitated, "in my experience, when Sir Jerk-A-Lot skulks off looking like he's swallowed a million lemons… you try to avoid him for the rest of the day. Or the rest of the night, in this case."

Mirah smirked. "He's nothing I can't handle, believe me." She stopped beside the hallway that led to a set of powder rooms with adjoining cubicles, one of which was the room where she'd corrected her eyeliner.

Mirah's prior smirk vanished as her visage turned serious. "Trust me, Asiya. He'd never admit it but I'm probably one of the closest things he has to a friend, aside from Bald Ninja."

"Bald Ninja?"

"You probably know him as Odion."

"I repeat,  _Bald Ninja_?"

Mirah folded her arms as her smirk returned. "The name stuck, okay?" Her gaze averted down the hallway as the smirk disappeared once more. "Anyway, we probably don't want to keep Dear Mr. Really Hot waiting any longer. Do me a favour and lock yourself in the first powder room on the left. Only unlock it when you hear three knocks on the door with a second-long interval between each knock."

A'isha blinked twice. "Well, I can see why you're good at your job. You're very efficient."

Mirah smiled, the expression oozing with mock-sweetness. "Years of rigorous, never-ending training does that to you." She nodded her head toward the powder room, a silent coax for A'isha to hop inside. She figured the woman wanted to be sure she was safe behind the door before leaving her alone, and silently complied, stepping down the corridor and into the empty room. She heard a muffled, "I'll be about ten minutes," before the soft sound of heels upon marble grew faint as Mirah left the corridor in the direction of the entrance.

A'isha spun on her heel to be met by a mirror.  _Well, this is a powder room._  She glanced at the handbag she'd slung over her shoulder, a few makeup items stored within it.  _Might as well touch up my makeup while I wait._


	29. Chapter 28: The Dinner Date Pt II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Just a warning, this chapter is where things start to get darker and not so light-hearted like the rest of the fic has been (for the most part). And uhh... the next chapter is going to make this one seem tame by comparison. Not sure yet if we're sorry for that. XD
> 
> Just a disclaimer of sorts: The true extent of the abilities of the Millennium Rod are a smidge vague in the show, but we know Marik used it to trick Arkana into thinking that key wasn't in his hand, so we figure it isn't far-fetched for him to be able to use it to permanently tamper with memories to some extent; maybe not long-term memories, but perhaps when the memory is fresh in the person's mind.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the reading! :D

**Chapter Twenty Eight: The Dinner Date Pt II**

Mirah found him silently stewing near the entrance, plonked on a bench carved from a solid slab of chestnut wood, its smooth surface polished to perfection. For once, he sat with a slump, his back curved to the brick wall behind him. He still looked to have a stick up his ass though.

The quiet clack of her heels tore through the faint chirps of crickets as she stepped over to the blond, sliding into the empty spot at his side. He didn't move an inch, his eyes affixed to a lone light, hanging from an awning overhead.

"Is it worth it?"

"Is what worth it?"

"The lengths to which we go to achieve what we want."

He glanced her way, indifferent. "That entirely depends on what one wants."

"What do you want, Marik?" Mirah crossed her leg right over left as she idly twirled a ringlet of stray hair around her finger. "And I mean  _really_  want, so don't give me any 'rule the world' rubbish."

He chuckled, elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. "How do you know that's not what I live and breathe for?"

"You're no simpleton, Blondie." Mirah pulled that same ringlet taut, pausing to eye it thoughtfully. "You're a lot like me." She let the ringlet fall, a slight smile quirking her scarlet lips. "You say one thing, but mean another. Yet, at other times we're nothing alike. You'll stay silent, yet show absolutely everything", her smile turned cheeky," like how much you care for Dear A'isha."

Marik's eyes dashed to hers. "Asiya," he corrected, already knowing his efforts were in vain.

"Cut the crap, Marik. I was in Egypt a week back and she was all over the papers. Her cousin too." A simper toyed with her lips, not that one was ever gone long. "I also noticed she's the niece of a well-respected detective in Alexandria… I'm guessing she found out one of your dirty little secrets? Or was the head in your pants responsible for the poorly chosen kidnappee?"

He shot her a glare. "Did you merely come out here to gloat?"

"Not at all," she said simply. "I am curious, though. Why'd you take her?"

"A now former employee allowed my name to slip from his tongue in her presence."

"Let me guess." She resisted laughter. "The poor sod felt the wrath of your golden stick?"

"For the last time, I'm  _not_  gay."

"Look at you, Mr Really Hot, using colloquial words like 'gay'. Did A'isha teach you that when  _she_  questioned your sexuality?"

Marik's unimpressed expression was answer enough.

"What can you expect when every Rare Hunter in your charge has a pocket rocket?" He could only assume that was British slang for male genitalia. "And don't give me that sexist bollocks about women being inferior to men, even in this line of work. You and I both know I'm living proof that's a lie." She paused, thoughtful. "As a matter of fact, Blondie, work is the very reason I'm gracing you with my presence."

"Is that so?" Marik crossed his arms, sending her a sideways glance. "Very well. I'm listening."

"I want a job."

Marik blinked back his shock. His face twisted with utter refusal, slowly shifted to mild consideration and finally, suspicion. "And just why would The Cobras' second-in-command and future heiress wish to join my ranks?"

"Why, Marik, I'm  _shocked_." Her face contorted into a look of mock outrage. "It's almost as if you don't trust me!"

"Well?" he almost spat.

Mirah embraced a more serious tone, knowing he was particularly sour tonight. "Let's just say my father's an inconceivable prick and my mother's missing. I want to find her and I need the resources to do it. I can't use my own. My father has access to anything and everything involving The Cobras, regardless of whether he makes use of that fact." She watched Marik from the edge of her eye. "That, Mr R.H., is where you come in." She plucked a folded piece of parchment from her bra cup and held it out to the blond. "These are the terms of my employment."

For a minute, silence filled the air as Marik flicked the beige parchment open and perused its contents, carefully reading the fine script.

"Should you choose to accept my offer, I will assume my position immediately, thereby returning to your fancy-schmancy ship tonight with you and Dear A'isha."

"Why betray your father?"

"Have you not deduced that he's a giant wanker?"

Marik had a feeling there was more to it than that, though he didn't press the matter. The slowly fading handprint on her cheek was reason enough. That didn't exactly quench his curiosity, but there was time for that later.

"How do I know this isn't an act?"

"A dear friend of mine once said to trust him and I did." A genuine, rarely seen smile set her face aglow. "Is it too much to ask that he return the favour?" Her smile turned impish. "When I led you to Zera and Zera Ritual, you  _did_  agree to grant me a favour at a time of my choosing."

Marik's lips formed a firm line. "You were already planning this proposal a week ago."

"Are you truly surprised?"

Marik snorted. "Not in the least." He chose that moment to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Where's A'isha?"

"I left your dear fiancée in the restroom. Told her to stay there till she hears three knocks on the door, a second-long pause between each one." Her eyes glimmered with amusement. "I assumed Amara's in your oh so hospitable care to keep your dear fiancée in line, or I wouldn't have left her alone."

"And Salim?"

"That cigar will keep him busy for at least another twenty minutes."

Marik rose from his seat, likely with more grace than he'd entered it. "You'll undoubtedly be of use to my organization; however, I have a few terms of my own." He tucked the beige parchment in an inner-pocket of his smoke grey suit coat, and flashed her a crooked smile. "Might I suggest that we cement this little deal of ours on my ship, following the conclusion of our dinner?"

Mirah elegantly found her feet. "I'd rather we come to an agreement  _prior_  to me entering the lion's den." She brandished a sugary smile. "Perhaps in the powder room with your dear fiancée present and a locked door separating us from uninvited ears?"

Marik's distaste was written all over his face.

"Don't tell me you're dissuaded by the prospect of A'isha seeing a marginally less selfish side of you?" Her grin was ridiculous as she leaned in close, a taunting glimmer in her eyes. "Women love a little selflessness, you know?"

"She has a boyfriend."

"A minor setback."

"I kidnapped her."

"Who's to say you can't kidnap her heart too?"

Marik rolled his eyes, earning a laugh.

"So," Mirah drawled, "is our discussion taking place in the powder room or not?"

Knowing she wouldn't agree to anything less, Marik nodded curtly. "I'll settle the bill, we'll retrieve A'isha, and leave before Salim becomes aware of our little deal."

"You? Paying?"

"It would be unwise to use the rod merely to avoid settling a bill. It runs the risk of attracting unnecessary and unwelcomed attention. I'd rather not have any other Millennium Item wielders tracking me down, like my dear sister."

Surprisingly, Mirah had nothing to say to that. Her curt nod was enough. "Shall we, then?"

He strode past the older woman, arrogance echoing in every step. "Follow me."

x

A'isha slipped her translucent powder in her handbag, making a mental note to tell Amara she could totally make a career out of her passion for makeup. Any confidence her cousin showed was a façade, so a little encouragement would only be a good thing. Also, she felt like a million bucks right now thanks to Amara. Given her current circumstances, she'd gladly take any pick-me-ups she could get.

As she zipped up her handbag, the rock on her ring finger caught the overhead lights.  _Actually, make that_ two _million bucks._ She glanced at the locked door across the powder room.  _How long have I been waiting? Two minutes? Maybe five? Naaa, it didn't take me THAT long to powder my face—_

"All occupied!" a desperate voice cried outside. "But I'm  _busting_!"

A'isha went taut, her eyes flying wider than the shiny china this place served its grub on. She knew that voice. She'd known it for twelve flippin' years.

_Julie!?_

Delight and disbelief collided, wrestling with her mind as she dashed to the door in three large strides. She flicked the lock and gripped the handle, only to freeze with uncertainty. Mirah would return in maybe five minutes, but only to retrieve her, signalling that it was safe to leave. She was simply in here to avoid Salim's wrath or whatever. She could always shove Julie in the adjoining restroom. And even then, something told her Mirah wouldn't bother tittle-tattling to Marik anyway. Or maybe that was desperation egging her on—

_Oh, screw it!_

A'isha twisted the handle and inched the door open. Doubt whispered in her ear, insisting that she was hearing things… that this was too good to be true. Nonetheless, she sought an answer with her own eyes, peering around the door. Another wave of shock flooded through her. A cross-legged Julie was squirming in the corridor, clad in a flowing, sapphire dress that skimmed her pale knees. She didn't recognise the garb; must've been a recent purchase.

Chocolate brown eyes snapped her way, relief shimmering in their depths at the prospect of emptying her bladder. With an awkward clear of her throat, A'isha drew the door aside.

Julie's jaw went slack, shock transforming her face. "Holy shit," she breathed, reality slowly descending upon her. "Holy  _shit_! A'isha!?" She'd dashed to the door in an instant. "Blinkin' heck! Is it really—"

Gasping, A'isha slapped her hand to the girl's mouth, her face twisting with urgency. She snuck a glance around the doorway, ensuring they were alone, then turned back to Julie. Her hand left her friend's lips as she lurched the door wide and frantically ushered the girl inside, knots forming in her stomach. If Marik found out about this—well, she didn't want to think about that.

After locking the door behind her, A'isha spun to find Julie gaping at her. Clearly, she was wondering if she'd finally lost her marbles.

"Umm."

A'isha's mind went blank. What should she say? Where should she even begin? Holy smokes, her best friend was standing right in front of her! Of all the places in Italy her parents could've taken her for her birthday, they took her here! Well, Ish  _had_ said Catania was worth checking out but—gah!  _What the hell?!_

"You… uhh… You should probably go pee before you ruin that pretty dress."

Julie nodded slowly, as though in a daze. "Yeah," she drawled, yet didn't take a step.

"Uhh… Are… you gonna…?"

Finally, A'isha's words snapped some sense into the English girl. "Oh! Ah! Yeah!" She gaped at Ish as she shuffled into the adjoining restroom. "I'm just… erm… gonna go… use the loo. Yeah… I'm using the loo…"

The moment Julie clicked the door shut, A'isha raced to the bench, gripping the cool marble like her legs would give way at any given moment. "What the  _hell_  am I doing?" she whispered, too quiet for Jules to hear. "Oh God, what are you doing, Ish?" Now she was pacing. "What should I tell her? What  _shouldn't_  I tell her?" She'd circled the room once." What if Mirah rocks up, sees her and  _does_ tell Marik? What if he kidnaps her too?" She stopped. "Or worse…"

A glimmer of hope sparked within her.

"But what if this is your ticket outta—"

Cruel realisation snuffed that hope from existence like an arctic chill.

"Marik still has Amara." Her fist met the wall to her left. "Damn it!"

The flush of the toilet had her gathering any composure that wall punch had seized. Julie emerged a few seconds later, silent as she washed her hands, then dried them off on a snowy white hand towel. She tossed it in a nearby hamper, noticeably calmer as she turned to face her friend. One deep breath and the Brit's lips parted, "Okay. Shoot."

A'isha recalled their phone call a few days back. "Well, you already know Mar and I have been kidnapped."

Her forehead creased. "By that Namu creep, right?"

A'isha groaned, remembering the letter she'd left for her caregivers. "Okay, I  _thought_  that was his name when I wrote that note to Ahad, but it's actually Marik." She gently gripped Jules' shoulders, almost as if the girl would float away if she didn't. "And Julie... Marik, he's... he's The R.H." She felt Julie tense beneath her fingers.

"He's the  _WHAT_?!"

She shot the girl another look of alarm, a reminder to keep her voice down.

"Sorry, it's just—" A line etched between her brows. "Why would the head honcho of the Rare Hunters kidnap two teenage girls?" She sucked in air, horror-struck. "Oh God… Is… Is he a…"

A'isha got the gist.  _'Is he a rapist?'_

"N-NO!" she squawked, a little louder than intended. "Remember how Dani found that deck of cards in an alley? And how he gave them to me to give to Ahad?"

"Yeah?"

"And- And how I got mugged before I  _could_?"

Julie nodded, her pity plainer than day.

"So the guy who mugged me was a Rare Hunter, and the idiot let Marik's name slip to me when he took those cards."

Julie's eyes lit up. "Ohhh! And he doesn't call himself The R.H. for nothing. He obviously doesn't want his name getting out and Ahad's a detective who's out to get him, so you're, like, the  _worst_  person to find it out… aside from Ahad, of course."

"Exactly!" A'isha's hands left her friend's shoulders, balling at her sides. She considered punching the wall again. "I'm such a dumb ass! Honestly! Why couldn't I have just told Ahad straight away?! I mean, I was kinda screwed up from that whole ordeal and life got in the way and  _he_ was super busy with work but— _ugh_! It just- It didn't even occur to me—"

"Hey," Julie murmured, her hand settling atop her friend's shoulder. "No point in dwelling on the could have's. I'm guessing Marik's around? He's gonna wonder what's taking so long." She flashed a weak smile. "So please, throw all the 'need to know' stuff at me."

A'isha swallowed a breath. "Okay. Marik has a boat. It's mostly grey and white, about the size of a small cruise or… I dunno… like a  _massive_  yacht. That's how the Rare Hunters get around." She was talking a mile a minute and more. "He has super light blond hair. Like, almost white. And it's- it's long, ends just below his shoulders." She showed as much with her hands. "Umm. And… And he has purple eyes. Really light purple… lilac, lavender, something like that. His skin's about the same colour as mine. He's apparently from Egypt… if he wasn't lying. Oh, and he's sixteen  _today_!"

Julie leaned closer. "Hold up. The R.H. is only  _sixteen_?!"

A'isha bobbed her head twice. "And- And- Uhh…"  _Important stuff, Ish. Important stuff!_ "He's got this golden rod… like some ancient artefact. I think it's Egyptian 'cause it has this, umm, this weird Egyptian eye symbol on it… well, I  _think_  the symbol's Egyptian. Looks like the Eye of Horus minus the under-eye flick or something. He calls the artefact the Millennium Rod. It- It lets him control and read minds—don't even ask!" She gripped the Brit's shoulders again. "Just believe me when I say it's not bullshit. He used it to kidnap Amara. Hell, he pretty much killed a guy with it! Well, he said he sent the creep's soul to the shadows, whatever that meant, but—"

"Bloody hell, this shizz be crazy!"

"You're telling  _me_!"

"Hold on." A'isha could just see the gears turning in Julie's head. "My table has a good view of the dance floor and I'm  _sure_ I saw your dress out there. I didn't see the girl's face from where I was, but I had a pretty good view of the guy's. Was that—Were you two  _dancing_?!"

A'isha went scarlet in a millisecond. "Y-Yeah, but I didn't have a choice! Trust me, I hated every damn second of it!"

"How- How the bloody hell is The R.H. so damn hot?!" Julie exclaimed, dumbfounded. "Shouldn't he be bald with a weird accent, a hairless cat and a spinny chair?"

"This isn't Austin Powers, Julie!"

"Okay, I was kinda joking with the Dr. Evil reference."

"Look, I know you're tryna cheer me up, but his looks aren't the point! Just- Just tell me you're remembering all this!"

"Yeah, yeah! I'm remembering, believe me!" Julie reassured, slapping her own cheek as though telling herself off for the joke. "So why are you in some fancy Italian restaurant wearing an elegant dress and sparkly jewellery? Shouldn't you be chained up in a torture chamber or something? Does he have, like, sugar daddy fantasies or something and you're just the unlucky girl he chose to fulfil them with? I mean, isn't it really risky having you out in public like this?" She snorted, gesturing to herself. "Exhibit A, you've come across your best friend."

A'isha released Julie, her arms falling to her sides. "The asshole suffers from a severely swollen ego and enough arrogance to be a one-man political party."

Julie smacked her lips together, holding back a giggle. "Is it… kind of bad that I sorta wanna meet him?"

"Seriously? Ugh! Why don't we trade places?!"

"You know what? I'm good. But goodness, how're there  _actually_  people like him?" A rhetorical question, of course. The world was full of jerks. "Why don't you ditch the psycho and come with me now? We'll go back to my table, call the cops and—"

"He still has Amara back on his ship and that mind-controlling rod. My hands are tied and he knows it." Ish chewed on her bottom lip. "Jules, you have no idea how much I'm risking just by talking to you now."

"So where's the creep at the mo? He  _actually_  let you go pee tinkle without standing guard outside or some shizz?"

"Something pissed him off," A'isha whispered, glancing at the door. "He stormed off outside and is probably talking to this ninja assassin lady right now. She locked me in here to protect me from her crazy boss, so she could go outside to talk to my equally crazy captor."

Julie opened her mouth, probably to exclaim that her bestie's life was sounding more and more like a TV drama. Three distinct knocks bet her to form sound.

A'isha wilted, stomach sinking. "One sec!" she called out, re-gripping Julie's shoulders as she mouthed out, 'That's the ninja assassin! I have to go now.' She threw a finger toward the restroom door. 'Hide in there!'

Julie's clear sorrow did nothing for A'isha's mood. She barely repressed tears as her bestie stole a quick hug, before tiptoeing into the restroom, carefully closing the door behind her.

A'isha flicked on the tap, washing her hands to imply she'd taken a whiz. "Just drying my hands." She was soon flipping the lock and lurching the door aside to reveal a familiar brunette beauty.

And an even more familiar blond pain in the butt.

Shit.

He looked a little less peeved, but still somewhat irritable. Clearly, something was heavy on his mind. She only hoped her choices weren't about to exacerbate that.

"Are we finally heading back to the table?" Ish asked, hopefully sounding convincing. She glanced at the sink over her shoulder. "Seriously, I'm so thirsty I gave thought to throwing my head under the tap and—"

A'isha hardly resisted a gasp when Mirah drove the door wide and strode inside. Marik was close in tow.

"Or… we could have a powder room party."

A'isha swore she caught Mirah glance at the restroom door, if only for a second. A part of her felt like the woman had superhuman vision and could see straight through it; that she  _knew_  they weren't alone.

Before A'isha could question why they weren't simply bidding the room a fond farewell, Marik spoke up. "Startlingly, I agree to every term outlined on your parchment."

Ish propped an eyebrow, sights shifting between the two crooks.  _Terms? What terms?_

"That isn't startling at all, Marik." Mirah smiled wryly. "As I already said, we're alike in many ways. I knew exactly what you'd agree to."

Well, the woman was as  _arrogant_  as Marik, A'isha gave her that.

"As mentioned, I do have my own terms." Marik clasped his hands behind his back, coolly pacing about the room. "You mentioned Sahin is to join my organisation as well. I'll allow it; however, you shan't be assigned to any missions together."

Mirah simply nodded, about as cool as a cucumber. She didn't seem surprised by that condition.

Meanwhile, A'isha's forehead furrowed.  _Wait, so she's joining the Rare Hunters? Is she certifiably insane?!_

"While I'll allow you access to our resources, including any necessary electronic devices, you'll be monitored at all times while using said devices." For a fleeting moment, Marik glanced his captive's way. "As for accommodation, Dear A'isha has just been assigned our last bedroom."

Ish cocked her head at that, noting he'd used her actual name. Mirah didn't look fazed either. Jeez, what the heck did they talk about outside?

"While two of our lounges have a sofa bed and can quite easily be converted into bedrooms for both you and Sahin, the doors won't have a lock." Marik smirked with his next statement. "And as I'm sure you can imagine, a fair few Rare Hunters have quite the grudge on you both. They may seek to regain a bit of lost pride."

Mirah snorted, clearly finding humour in the thought alone. "I'm a light sleeper, but if need be I can barricade the door. The same applies for Sahin." She twirled a loose ringlet of dark brown hair. "And if a member of your employ somehow manages to pass what will undoubtedly be a very effective barricade, they won't have a pride to regain once we're through with them."

Marik rolled his eyes. "That brings me to my final term, little Benu." He stopped pacing and glanced her way, lavender eyes narrowing. "You're not to rile up my employ, nor harm them in any way. You're task is to alleviate our workload, not aggravate it."

"Deal."

Oh gosh, Mirah even agreed to things like Marik did.  _That's kinda terrifying…_

In that moment, the inevitable happened. Marik's attention shifted to the restroom door. She was somewhat surprised he'd taken this long to notice it was closed. His hangover and birthday must've been throwing him for a loop.

"Why is that door closed?" His voice was way too soft, only heightening A'isha's dread. He already suspected something.

"I was in there when you got here and that's why I took a while—"

"That doesn't answer my question."

Marik took two steps towards the door.

"I went number two!" Immediately, she flushed redder than a raspberry.

Marik eyed her for even the slightest change in expression as he closed all remaining distance between him and the door. He didn't look remotely repulsed. That was a bad thing. A very bad thing. "So you have no qualms about me opening it, then?"

"You  _really_  don't wanna do that," Ish warned, not even bothering to hide the desperation in her voice; it made it sound like she truly  _was_  trying to save his nose the torture, or herself the embarrassment.

"You could be lying."

"Fine. Open it then." Somehow, her voice hadn't cracked.

Finally, disgust drove Marik to hesitate. She barely contained a sigh. He glanced at the other woman in the room, who was of course grinning like an idiot, watching this unfold. "Open it, Mirah."

Rather than complying, Mirah scoffed. "I'm not your doorman, Marik." She looped her arms across her full chest. "Grow a pair and do it yourself."

Marik looked about ready to slap her. A'isha almost wished he would, perhaps cruelly so. It might have just muffled the amused snort that erupted beyond the restroom door, or the mortified gasp that quickly followed.

A'isha face-palmed harder than one had ever face-palmed before. Well, this was it. She was dead. So ridiculously dead. If only there was a coffin around, she could simply climb in of her own accord, saving everyone else the trouble. Instead, she fell victim to the second most terrifying glare to have ever crossed her captor's face; the first, she recalled, had happened the day she'd met him, when he'd stomped towards her with the dagger of the rod held high.

Like a vindictive predator eyeing its prey, Marik gnashed his pearly whites like fangs. "Open the door."

She didn't. A stupid move and she knew it. The last strings of hope held her back. Some desperate belief that the longer that door stayed shut, the better the odds of a window miraculously appearing for Julie to leap through.

"I said," Marik hissed, his voice raising a notch, "Open. The Ra-damned door."

Before A'isha could shove aside the fear to comply, the door swung open from the inside, and they were met by a sheepish grin and… jazz hands?

"Happy Birthday, Marik!"

Okay.  _Now_ she'd fallen victim to the second most terrifying glare to ever cross Marik's face. Talk about a terrible opening line.

Marik threaded his hands behind his back, sending her friend a frosty look. "So are you here to paste my stupid face so bloody hard I'll think I'm in a Quentin Tarantino movie?"

Julie looked torn between scared and impressed. "Woah… You're like an elephant's asshole." Another face-palm worthy moment. "Uhh… I- I mean because you're an asshole with the  _memory_  of an—"

"How much did A'isha tell you?"

"Ohhhh!" Julie exclaimed, peering toward her slightly trembling friend, who stood on her left and Marik's right. "So  _that's_  your name? A'isha? Well, thanks A'isha for letting me use the lady's room! I prolly woulda pissed myself if it weren't for you!" She paused, stealing a glance at Blondie. "… No? … No takers? … Bugger."

"Marik, I just heard her outside and I—"

"Did I ask you, A'isha?!"

She didn't miss the way his voice cracked as he hissed her name. For a second, she was sure she'd even caught hurt in his eyes, and thought she tasted bile in her throat.

"Please just—"

"Be silent, little Ish." He seemed to have regained his composure with that order.

Julie arched a brow, the corners of her lips curling upward. "Little Ish? Really? A'isha, I thought only  _I_  could give you swanky rapper names?"

"And I thought Amara was infuriating," Marik growled, earning an offended gasp from the Brit.

"Did he just compare me to—?" Julie hurled him a glower. "Sheesh! You're right, Ish. He  _is_ an asshole!"

Marik stepped between the two girls, entering Julie's entire vision. "Answer my question."

"Let Ish and Mar go."

Marik laughed. "You're in no position to bargain, little Julie."

"I prefer Lil' Jules, to be honest." That earned a muffled chuckle from the other Englishwoman in the room. "See, it sounds more rapper-esque with the single syllabled Jul—"

"My patience was dwindling long before you entered the picture, Julie." The girl's already pale skin drained of any remaining colour when he smoothly withdrew the Millennium Rod from his belt. He sneered at her silence. "I see Dear A'isha mentioned my Millennium Item. I—"

"Can you not call her  _Dear_  A'isha. It's  _really_  creep—"

A tanned hand looped around her wrist, catching that word in her throat as he lurched her to his chest, the wing of the rod pressed firmly to her neck.

"Ow!"

A'isha took two steps forward till his gaze snapped her way, pinning her instantly. Her breath hitched as she glimpsed a drop of crimson making a steady descent down Julie's neck.

"Agh!" The Brit shot a scowl up at the sneering blond, but she didn't struggle, likely to avoid the wing digging further into the cut. "Prick!"

"Be thankful a prick is all it was."

"I meant  _you_ , ya bloody tosspot!"

A'isha winced, painfully aware that Marik loved his stupid pride, especially with Mirah around. She didn't want him endeavouring to keep up appearances now, toward her fiery friend. "Julie, stop it," she warned, dead serious.

Julie listened.

And of course, Marik's sneer gave way to a haughty laugh. "Perhaps I was mistaken to think you were anything like A'isha's weakling cousin."

Ish wrung her fists as he released Julie far rougher than necessary.

"I suppose," Marik continued, "that's to be expected, given how close you are to my  _dear captive_."

A'isha just  _knew_  he'd stressed those last two words to rub her crappy circumstances in Julie's face. It worked too, if the furious glare the girl shot his way was anything to go by.

"Do you know what inmates do to the pretty boys in prison?" Julie snarled, forgetting A'isha's advice in a tick. Again, Mirah was in the background, pressing her lips to avoid another snicker. A'isha, on the other hand, was cringing harder with each passing second. "If you don't, no matter; you'll find out when Ahad tracks you down and throws your  _particularly sorry ass_  in jail—"

One fleeting flash from Marik's magic stick and Julie slumped to the marble floor.

A'isha eyes shot wide, exposing her horror. "JULIE!" she screamed, darting to her side in two seconds flat, her knees greeting the floor. Her glossy eyes bore into her captor. "You sent her soul to the shadows?! How could you—"

"I did no such thing," Marik sliced through her words, deceivingly calm as he traced his thumb along the artefact's ominous eye. "I merely knocked her out. Her mind is still intact, though her short-term memories have been eradicated, ensuring the girl retains nothing you've told her."

A'isha blinked back her tears, gazing at the motionless girl. "So she… she won't remember I was—?"

"No."

"Why didn't you do that to me instead of—"

Marik glared down at her, any gentleness gone from his stony visage. "By the time I learned of Michaes' foolish slip of the tongue, it was already too late. The memory was no longer short-term." He returned the rod to his dark brown belt, straightening his suit coat soon after. "Now get up. We're leaving."

A muscle in her jaw twitched. "Are you kidding me?" she shrieked, grimacing at the girl splayed before her like a ragdoll. "I'm not just gonna leave her here on the friggin' floor for some other creep to find—!" She seized up at a sudden, gentle grip on her shoulder, her first thought being that Marik planned on dragging her out of the room. Instead, Mirah's strangely soft voice had her slackening.

"I saw Julie's table earlier this evening." She felt a squeeze on her shoulder. "I'll advise the staff that she fainted and ensure they know who her family is." Another squeeze. "She'll be okay, I assure you."

"Now hurry up", she tensed all over again, Marik's voice like ice, "before the girl's family think to find out why she's taking so long."

A'isha gave thought to taking her sweet time, increasing the odds of that very scenario taking place. Alas, she knew better than to push him. He was already furious.

She'd barely found her feet when Marik barked another order, this time at Mirah.

"Ensure they have nothing on their person from the other."

A'isha gaped at the blond. "Are you serious?" The thorough jerk.

She watched as Mirah withdrew a sleek, compact camera from the leather bag slung over her broad shoulder. Rather than patting down her fellow females, she smoothly skimmed the device over them. Must've had some sort of fancy X-ray vision camera lens.

"Both girls are fine." Mirah slid the camera back into her bag, glancing at Julie. "I'll deal with that wound on her neck. It's so miniscule I doubt it'll keep bleeding, but any blood we leave will only draw attention to it."

While Mirah tended to Julie, Marik ducked out with A'isha, his arm coiled around her waist. His grip was tight, yet his touch was what truly had her biting back bile.

Of course, he avoided the dining area, instead leading her out to the parking lot. She was sure he'd spent every last ounce of self-control fighting the urge to drag her through the posh restaurant. That didn't stop him from seizing her shoulders, forcing her to sit on the two-seater slab of chestnut wood near the entrance.

She hated the way she shivered, and how she struggled to blame it on the slight, chilling breeze that whistled through the evening air.

Marik stared out at the parking lot, his mouth set in a hard line. He didn't even bother to look at her when he eventually snarled, "You're still kidnapped."

As if she needed the damn reminder. Seriously? Did he really expect her to accept that fact? To just see how things panned out, hoping he wasn't spouting lies when saying she'd one day be freed? Her bestie had basically shown up on a silver platter, her chance to turn the tides and steer Ahad their way.

"What did you expect me to do?!" she barked, her eyes shooting sparks. "She was  _right there_!"

For some reason, her anger only tripled when he refused to make eye contact, yet she managed to hold her tongue after that. So did he, instead sending a scowl at anything but her. The material of his suit creased as he crossed his arms, and the vibrant orange of her dress seemed dull in the darkness as she toyed with the smooth cloth, gazing at her grey flats. Only Mirah's arrival ceased the smothering silence.

"Julie's safe and Salim's still smoking like a bloody choo choo train." A'isha glanced up to find her smiling slyly. "Good thing I bugged his suit. Can't wait to hear the wanker's little temper tantrum when he realises his designated driver ditched him. And for The R.H., no less."

Marik ignored his newest employee. Instead, he wordlessly reached for A'isha's elbow, his hand roughly coiling around it. She nearly lost her flats as he yanked her to her feet, shoving her towards three nearby steps that led to the parking lot.

"Move," was all he said, releasing her.

His temper, something she'd certainly endured before now, was the only reason she swallowed her pride. Her body shook as she stumbled down the small steps, and of course lost her damn footing on the third. Thankfully, Mirah quickly gripped her shoulders, steadying her. The brunette leaned close, amusement playing in her voice.

"You sure got his tie in a twist," she whispered, her slender hands leaving A'isha's shoulders. "A woman after my own heart."

The younger girl said nothing, sensing two lavender irises drilling into her back. His steps were loud and deliberate, awfully out of sync with her own as they echoed through the parking lot.

Marik's rented, black sedan was six cars away when she heard his steps slow, then stop completely. She glanced over her shoulder and glimpsed his sleek, black flip phone in his grasp, buzzing slightly. In one fluid motion, he flicked open the device.

"Speak, slave."

The belittling way Marik addressed his employees, creeps or not, only rattled her further. Typical jerk, demeaning everyone and everything around him. Dude would probably talk down a fire hydrant if he thought it looked at him funny.

A'isha squinted a little, like that would miraculously heighten her sense of sound. She couldn't even begin to decipher the muffled, incoherent gabble that sputtered through the line, but they sounded terrified. Absolutely terrified.

"Stop stuttering, you ignoramus."

A'isha spared a glance at the newest addition of Marik's now-not-so-manly harem. Mirah was deathly still, two cautious eyes on her new boss. Did Mirah know something she didn't? Or did she just have some mad ninja senses that were tingling?

"Spit it out, Lumis."

More stuttering. Then silence. A long, agonisingly painful silence. A toxic air suddenly descended upon the trio; a sickening, choking sort of air that had A'isha trembling in an instant. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"She  _what_?"

Only then did she wish the ground would turn to quicksand and swallow her whole.

If he wasn't staring her down, A'isha would've thought Mirah had somehow screwed him over. But no. No no no no  _no_. Whatever had him completely and utterly pissed, it involved  _her_.

All she wanted to do in that moment was sprint as far away from Marik as alienly possible. To her dismay, she could move no more than she could fly. Terror had her drilled in place, confined to her quivering body.

Marik snapped the phone shut, his grip so firm his knuckles were white. His body was taut, screaming at her. His face was dangerously still, his eyes colder than ice, harder than diamond, yet somehow ablaze with charring ferocity.

"How dare you…" His voice was soft. Horribly, chillingly soft. "HOW DARE YOU!"

Her instincts threw her arms over her head as something black flew her way. Pain never came. She peeked between her arms, sweat beading on her brow. Like some sort of crazy ninja, Mirah had plucked Marik's cell phone right out of the air. A'isha hardly heard her own sigh of relief, her eyes bouncing between the fuming blond and the simpering brunette. What the freaking hell did she do to piss him off?! She didn't understand. She just  _didn't_.

"Didn't mommy ever teach you not to throw your toys?" Mirah pressed.

A'isha couldn't decide if she should be astonished, appalled or utterly horrified. Didn't the woman know his mother was  _dead_ , let alone  _how_  she died? Was she really poking the proverbial bear that was Mr Undignified and Pissed?

A'isha gulped as his lips drew back in a snarl. "Step. Aside." The order had been delivered with disturbing precision, so deliberate he could only be seeing red.

"Not a chance, Blondie."

Before A'isha could even process, Mirah had Marik pinned against the nearest car, a black sedan she hoped was empty; awkward wouldn't even start to cover it, should the car be occupied.

"Release me, Mirah." Marik sent his newest employee the dirtiest look A'isha had ever seen, and her trembling only tripled as she realised it wasn't meant for Mirah. "I'll only repeat myself once." His eyes narrowed to slits on the arm that had him pinned, before they slowly travelled up to meet Mirah's unwavering gaze. "Release. Me."

"So you can beat her to the brink of death?"

"How I choose to discipline my captives is of no concern to you."

At those words, so uncaring and vile, A'isha found the ground immensely interesting. Her fists wrung at her sides, a whirlwind of emotions slicing her dishevelled mind to shreds. Terror. Fury. Confusion. Anxiety. And something else… something she just couldn't put her finger on.

But oh God, did he seriously plan on… on  _murdering_  her? Why?! What could she have possibly done to peeve him off? This must've been some sort of mistake. Or maybe he was messing with her. Was this a test for Mirah? Was he just testing Mirah's loyalty to him or something? Or was that wishful thinking?

Something told her it was.

 _What the hell do you expect? He's the leader of a massive criminal organisation and you're freaking_ surprised _?!_

Had she really been crazy enough to think he gave a crap about her? That he'd meant it when he'd claimed he cared last night? Did she really think that kiss had meant anything to him? That it wasn't simply fuelled by drunken curiosity?

He was a liar. A stinking, despicable liar. She was merely another pawn in some crazy scheme that was way beyond her. To him, she was pathetic, feeble, expendable,  _nothing_.

Only then did she identify that final emotion.

Betrayal.

It made her sick that he could even make her feel it.

Betrayal implied caring. It implied emotional attachment. It implied she gave a damn about him.

In that moment, A'isha realised that the worst part was that she  _did_  care about him. Far more than she should. And it made her sick. Absolutely sick.

"Marik," Mirah murmured, as soft as she'd sounded back in the powder room. "If you hurt her, you'll be no better than my father."

 _And your own,_  A'isha caught herself thinking. Thankfully her brain was still functioning well enough to not voice that thought. Or maybe that was just the fear  _not_  talking.

"Stop me, Dear Mirah, and narrow the odds of ever seeing your precious mother again."

They were taunting each other, Marik daring the woman to tip him over the edge of calm fury and into mindless rage. Though Marik's threat about Mirah seeing her mother again—A'isha had no clue what that meant. Maybe that had something to do with why the woman was ditching one creep for another. Was that a prerequisite of being an influential criminal? Mummy  _and_ daddy issues?

The two wilful teens stared each other down, not even blinking. She briefly wondered what was running through their minds. Or perhaps she didn't want to know. Whatever was going through Marik's, she was sure it would only make her feel ten million times worse. Mirah, however, seemed so calm she could've given a cucumber a run for its money.

Mirah didn't move an inch, refusing to release him. "Might I suggest we address this little kerfuffle on your ship," she proposed, her voice firm, "before my father realises his most prized possession has done a runner?"

At first, Marik didn't answer. Probably wrestling with his pride. "Very well," he finally said, his voice tight. "However, given this 'little kerfuffle' doesn't concern you, I'd like to establish now that you won't be present for its… resolution. When we reach my vessel, five Rare Hunters will be ready to escort you to your room." His eyes narrowed. "Is that clear?"

"Clear as mud," Mirah muttered, yet didn't move an inch, "but I'm driving."

A dry laugh croaked in his throat. "I believe you have our roles reversed, little Benu. I'm the one in command here and I will not tolerate—"

"You're not driving, Marik." This time it was A'isha who spoke, her speech as firm and resolute as her face.

At first, Marik was dumbstruck. Any shock was soon swept away by derision, wrinkles forming around his eyes as they pierced her own. "Clearly, I've become too lenient with you, girl," he hissed through clenched teeth, "and it would appear that a little lesson in respect is required." A cruel smirk snaked across his lips. "No matter, you'll learn very soon that your place is at my feet."

A'isha refused to back down, her shoulders squared as her eyes blazed with determination. That didn't stop a hint of sorrow from seeping into her gaze as she took in the malice that marred his own. "My parents died at the hands of a reckless driver!" she growled, her fists curling at her sides, "and I'll be damned if I let you behind that friggin' wheel to ruin more lives that sure as hell don't deserve it!"

"I'm perfectly capable of operating a Ra-damned vehicle!"

"Into a fucking ditch!"

Had Marik not been pinned by his employee, he and A'isha would've surely been at each other's throats. Instead, he twisted and turned, grunting as he struggled to break free. "Release me, Mirah!" He stopped to shoot her a glare. "I won't say it again!"

"Marik," the brunette drawled, calm as anything. "Vos scitis verum est."

Initially, Marik continued to squirm, not registering the phrase. Then, he stilled and stared at her.

"Nolite fieri imprudentes," Mirah continued, meriting an eyebrow raise from A'isha. Was that… Latin?

It was ten seconds feeling like that many minutes. He seemed a smidge calmer, so still certifiably pissed, when a stiff reply left his lips.

"Callide."

Without a word, Mirah unpinned him, taking three silent steps back.

Of course, the first thing he did was straighten out his jacket with a rough, aggressive flick. After one readjustment of his plum purple tie, Marik scowled A'isha's way. Not one of those petulant, adolescent scowls either. No, this was more like stifled fury. She knew, despite his seemingly calm exterior right now, the guy had hardly calmed his farm.

To her immense relief, a quiet clear of Mirah's throat averted his attention to the slender hand she'd held out. "The keys, Sir?"

A'isha wasn't at all surprised by the three seconds he spent wrestling with his pride, before withdrawing the keys from his inner coat pocket. A sliver of tension left her body as he reluctantly handed them over to Mirah; though sadly, she was still about as tense as a cat out at sea.

That tension only tripled as Marik honed in on her, his eyes narrowed coldly. She hated how she flinched as his hand gripped her elbow, his skin a shade darker than her own. "Move," he barked, basically dragging her toward his black sedan, six cars along. Thank goodness her legs were as long as his or she would've faceplanted instantly.

Six shoves later and half way to the car, she quite literally put her foot down, nearly loosing a grey flat in the process. "For fucks sake!" she snapped, somehow jerking her arm free without dislocating her elbow. "I think I get it—!"

Marik gripped her wrists, wrenching her against him. Her hands were quickly draining of their colour. "Not yet, you don't," he hissed in her ear, "but you will once we reach my ship. I'll make sure of that." His lips quirked up as she struggled in his hold, throwing fists to his chest and feet to his legs. Each attempt at freeing herself was for naught.

So she headbutted him.

The smirk vanished instantly.

An anguished grunt tore through their lips, their hands smacking their pulsing foreheads. Marik recovered a second earlier than his assailant, his anger flaring as pain and fury clouded his amethyst vision.

A'isha caught a blur of brown, then a searing sting, throbbing and spreading across her left cheek. Chips of rock bit her fingers as they slapped against concrete, the shrill tear of silk slicing through the air; crimson liquid seeped from her knee to soak a shredded section of her dress.

Marik had backhanded her.

And although it wasn't a first, this time had definitely hurt more.

Much, much more.

Before she could show any reaction bar shock, Mirah was between them. "I think she gets it, Marik," she stated gravely, her black-clad arms thrown wide like wings. "Now might I suggest we stop making a scene and instead make ourselves scarce before Salim shows up?"

Silence was her only answer.

"Good."

The clack of heels growing louder had A'isha looking up. A hand had been extended to her, lean and feminine, a few small scars speckled across the fingertips. Mirah said nothing, though she did manage a smile. The pity it possessed wasn't lost to A'isha.

Accepting the hand offered to her, the younger girl stumbled to her feet, wincing. Without even thinking, she gripped her stinging knee, warm liquid oozing between her fingers. She refused to meet Marik's gaze, sure she'd been torn between tears and the desire to absolutely strangle him.

"I suppose that'll be tended to back on the boat," Mirah voiced, sparing the bloody gash a two-second glance.

"Yeah, I—" One step and A'isha sucked air through her teeth, more out of shock than pain. She was limping. Splendid. Just splendid. "I'm really gonna enjoy ripping this stupid fucking dress apart for makeshift gauze."

Mirah scoffed in amusement, offering a literal shoulder for the girl to lean on. She led her to the car, a silently fuming Marik mere steps behind them.

A'isha had no clue what awaited her on his ship or what the hell he'd been told on that phone call, but she did know one thing…

The drive there was going to be absolute torture.


	30. Chapter 29: The Sting Of Betrayal Pt. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ataahua AN: Why hello there, everyone. Long time, no update! Sorry about that. Let's just say a lot of personal shizz has been going on and keeping life crazy. On top of that, this chapter's been a right pain in the butt. Below is our third attempt at it - or is it the fourth? - and I kid you not, we probably ended up scrapping at least 15k words because we just weren't happy with it. No joke, I'm surprised I'm not bald right now. Pretty sure I wanted to tear my hair out a good ten million times. Anyway, I'm sounding like a Negative Nancy. I'm actually super freaking stoked right now to have an update for you guys. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> DH AN: I'm not sorry about the cliffhanger but am sorry it took us so damn long. Secondly, this chapter… went through several major revisions- but we've HOPEFULLY got it all figured out. But I swear if Sir Jerk A Lot EVER gives us this much trouble before we reach the point that it's reasonable (Battle City frustrates me just a bit but it has for about a decade and a half- I can deal with that), I will not be a happy camper. Kudos to Ataahua again for most of the finger-work and I'm also happy we're done with this chapter- and that my backseat writer sass didn't bleed into the actual chapter.
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy this chapter of In A Name: Act I!

A'isha limped toward the car under the pace of Mirah's careful cadence. Her right knee throbbed and stung. Her ankle shot hot pain up her calf, injured when she'd tried to catch herself in the aftermath of that stupid backhand. Her skull screamed as she questioned that split-second decision to headbutt Sir Jerk-A-Lot. The stomps around ten feet behind her were enough to know she'd just pissed him off more.

A'isha froze as a hint of misting drizzle ghosted across her skin, until the click of a door handle recaptured her focus. Mirah stared at her, expressionless, then at the back-passenger door she'd pulled wide open.

Without protest, A'isha clambered inside and selected the middle seat. She could watch both of the front seats' occupants from there, but it made the opposite true for Marik. She hardly cared that Mirah could see her through the rear-view mirror. It wasn't her stare that A'isha feared could turn her to stone right now.

A'isha flinched as the front passenger door slammed to a shut so hard the car shuddered. Marik, ergo Mr Temperament Of A Two-Year-Old, had just hopped in. Meanwhile, Mirah seated herself with the poise of a ninja-queen hybrid.

A'isha beat her fingers against her thigh.

How had she really screwed up this badly? How?!

Just last night, he'd downed three bottles of wine around her. He'd divulged his shoddy past to her. He'd told her he cared for her. Sheesh, he'd even kissed her!

Marik had trusted her with a side of him few had ever seen.

Had she wanted him to?

Hell no!

It was way easier to hate him when he acted like his usual jerky self. Not to mention being kissed by one's captor was wrong on so many levels it made her cringe.

But now, geeze, she'd take that kiss over this – whatever this was – in a microsecond.

Somehow, she was shocked and yet not at all. It was only a matter of time till any favour she'd earned with Marik was flushed down the proverbial toilet. She was with him against her will. So was Amara. They couldn't stay stuck with him forever. She knew it. He knew it. This nightmare was doomed to happen.

That simple fact did nothing for her mood.

After all, it was still a nightmare.

And she still had no clue what that friggin' call had been about.

The faint jingle of keys made her tense, and the low rumble of an engine followed as the agonising drive commenced. She glanced out the rear window, tears filling her vision and reducing the restaurant to splotches of scattered, golden lights. Her frown melted from her face as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto a busy street, forcing her to bid Julie's family a silent farewell.

Who knows when I'll see them again. Her stomach twisted in knots. Or IF I'll ever see them again.

A'isha stared out the window to her left, lines of buildings blurring by. Drizzle patted the car, glistening like glitter with every street light they passed. A grimace twisted her features and her bottom lip quivered. The tears had come far too freely this week. She was sick of it.

After years of dealing with Elissa, A'isha had thought herself all but immune to tears. And yet here she was this week, a snivelling, pathetic mess more often than not. It was beyond humiliating!

Dull throbs and searing stings from her right knee snatched her attention. She peered at the open wound, her nose crinkling at the loose, bloody flap of skin that hung from her knee cap.

Splendid! She scowled at the blood that trickled down her calf. Looks like the scar I got from that bike ride gone wrong ten years back will soon have a buddy.

A'isha quietly tore off the offending end of her dress, ripping the tattered material into three lengthy sections. One section was used to smear away the blood, two sections as a makeshift gauze. Fortunately, it didn't look too deep- closer to a graze, but still a pretty nasty one. She hoped, perhaps foolishly so, that she'd manage to get her hands on some disinfectant and decent dressing later tonight.

She huffed as she held her burning hands out before her, palms up. The skin was grazed, seeping with just a smidge of blood, but they'd be fine without gauze.

A'isha grimaced. As much as it disgusted her, she'd be lying if she claimed to be happy as Larry that her dress was ruined beyond repair. Its end now skimmed her knees, the hem frayed and the orange material dyed brown in some spots thanks to the dirty concrete she'd slammed against two minutes ago.

She risked a brief, but venomous glare at the jerk responsible. Sadly, glaring at the back of his head, half hidden the black leather of a headrest, wasn't nearly as satisfying as glaring at the front of his head. She swore he was trembling; it was as if his ire was so uncontainable his body sought to shake it through his skin before he snapped all over again.

A'isha swallowed.

On second thought, she was fine glaring at the back of his head.

x

By the time they reached the local pier, the weather had deteriorated in buckets. The headlights of the black sedan sliced through the inky shadows of the night, illuminating the thick droplets that thrashed the windshield. The wiper blades hummed wildly, set to the fastest speed and still struggling to swipe the windshield clear.

An invisible vice of a hand seized around her as the rain battered the rooftop like some hungry beast out for blood. It was that creature! The one from the school auditorium! From the night she'd learned his name! It was pounding on the thin roof overhead, claws to metal like nails down a chalkboard, mixing with the wind's haunting melodies.

A'isha drummed her clammy fingers against the empty seats to each side of her. Her breathing quickened. She sucked air through her nose, exhaled slowly through her lips, then sucked in more.

It was an attempt at easing her nerves.

A barely successful one.

Up ahead, she could only just make out the rear of Marik's ship. The ramp that led to the built-in garage of the vessel had already been lowered, awaiting their arrival.

Light brightened the car, briefly blinding her, as they ascended the ramp and eased to a stop alongside a silver sedan and a black and crimson motorcycle. Deafening silence followed- aside from the quiet rumble of the engine.

She would've slackened against the leather seat, relieved to be rid of the rain, had another horror not already been looming: Marik's unfulfilled threats.

A'isha tensed, her eyes shooting to Mirah as the older woman flicked off the engine, passed her new boss the keys, and swept from the car with the grace of a lithe cat; she was confronted by a group of five Rare Hunters, who promptly escorted her from the garage. Ish's eyes then snapped Marik's way when he left the vehicle, slamming the door so hard the car shook.

So hard she shook.

Again.

Oh God! Finding out his name was merely the start of this horror! It was about to get worse… Much worse!

A'isha sucked in another breath. A shaky one.

This time, it did nothing to dispel the dread that swelled in her lungs like an ever-rising tide, choking her where she sat.

It did nothing to ease the tremors that shook her fingers- too slight to see, yet too strong to ignore.

And it certainly did nothing to calm the ravenous beast that banged at the auditorium roof, its foul breath hot on her neck as it hissed death threats in her ear.

The click of the door to her left cut through her thoughts. Her eyes dashed left to find a pair of olive orbs staring back at her, their owner unclipping her seatbelt in one fluid motion.

"Od…" Her throat tightened. "Od… Odion." She thought she'd glimpsed a sliver of sympathy swimming in those eyes, especially when his gaze skimmed over the bloodied gauze on her knee. Then, he plucked a piece of bloody material off the floor- the torn section of her dress she'd used to wipe down her knee.

"Come, A'isha." His voice bore only a fraction of the gentleness that it had the night before. "A Rare Hunter has been tasked with returning this rental vehicle to the local branch." His lips twitched, perhaps in a failed attempt to show a smile. "He can't exactly do that with you in the backseat."

With that, Odion straightened to his full height beyond the door, awaiting her leave.

Meanwhile, A'isha's trembling escalated. The mere notion of leaving the car in her current state had her stomach squirming.

Marik couldn't see her like this. Not this time.

This wasn't like that night in their hotel room. This wasn't like that horrid panic attack he'd brought her down from. That night, he hadn't been halfway responsible for it.

Tonight was a different story.

"Breathe, Ish," she choked, gulping for air like some feeble fish drowning on land. "Breathe…" She gripped her temples, kneading them with trembling digits as her eyes clamped shut. Her heart throbbed in her ears. She could hear it, slamming against her ribcage, trying to burst free. It filled her mind. It fuzzed her senses. "No… No, just breathe… Don't… Don't focus on that." She gulped. "He can't… He can't see me like—"

Her eyes lurched open at the sudden flick of a door handle to her right.

A pair of searing lavender pools.

One hand around her bicep.

And two words hissed through clenched teeth.

"Get out!"

A'isha choked back a sob, air jamming in her throat, as Marik yanked her from the car. Her humiliation was only exacerbated when her injured ankle gave way and she stumbled straight into the fuming blond. Her grazed hands stung as they slapped against his suit-covered chest. All she could think in that moment was how sickeningly close the action was to a damsel in distress throwing herself into the arms of her knight in shining armour.

Irony was a bitch.

A cruel, disgusting, utterly undignifying bitch.

The contact ended almost instantly. A'isha didn't know if she'd leaped five steps back of her own accord or if he'd shoved her.

As long as she was five steps further from him than before, she didn't bloody care.

A'isha regained her footing just in time to flinch as Marik threw the keys at the guy who had the luck to get out of this explosive tin can. Fine tremors continued to rush through her body as she caught Marik utter the word "landfall". The Rare Hunter nodded like a bobblehead and scrambled into the driver's seat.

As the car reversed, A'isha's trembling tripled when the headlights revealed rain in sheets. She stilled in fear at Marik's steps- still akin to those of an upset toddler tramping all over- for fifteen seconds on concrete and then the steps were muffled by the industrial grade carpeted hallway.

Ish jumped at Odion's careful, far lighter paces. As he stopped, she stilled slightly. Only slightly.

She still knew something was coming.

Still knew something had thrown Marik off- confirmed as the boat lurched forward, making haste for the open sea, and the roar of the engine resounded throughout the cargo hold.

Her nerves didn't abate. How could they?

Forget being thrown in at the deep end! She was being thrown into the Goddamn Atlantic Ocean!

Marik was pissed. He was pissed and all she knew was that sneaking Julie into that washroom wasn't the only reason for it- and that she was wildly unprepared for whatever Mr Royally Peeved had in store for her.

Unlike his little brother, Odion appeared to completely understand the concept of space- the physical and emotional kind. A minute passed before he spoke up, far gentler than he had only moments ago. They were alone now. He had no need to keep up appearances.

"Marik has asked that you remain in my sight for the rest of this evening." He flourished a large, tan hand toward the exit his brother had stomped through a minute ago. "And that I escort you to your… quarters."

Rooted to the ground, A'isha merely stared at the empty archway to the halls of the ship. She swallowed, quivering. The carefully placed hand that found her shoulder, warmth radiating from it, eventually drove her forward.

With every shaky step, her jaw clenched and she fought back a wince. She'd be limping for days with the state her ankle was in. If only an injured ankle was what topped her list of problems right now.

Odion slowed his pace to suit her stupid limp. "Would you like me to help—?"

"I'd like to keep what little dignity I have left."

Sadly, that wasn't much. Not after Marik's man-handling this evening.

A'isha swore she caught sight of a pained expression from Odion. It was enough to know her desire to keep her dignity was easier said than done. By a few hundred miles.

As they left the cargo hold behind, Ish inhaled slowly, deeply, and exhaled soon after. She was probably as close to calm as was possible right now. Still, her shoulders were tense- so tense they'd nearly nestled to the curve of her jaw with no sign of slackening soon.

An ill sense of foreboding electrified her mind. The worst was still to come.

That phone call once again filled her thoughts.

A'isha glanced at the man on her left. His hand was still on her shoulder, while his eyes were set on the hallway ahead. "Um. Odion?" She was relieved to have sorta regained a grip on herself. At the very least, her words were coherent and her breaths were semi-level. "What was that call about? The one Marik got from… uhh… is it Lumis?"

"It might be wise to seek that answer from your cousin rather than me."

Her brows creased and her eyes sunk to the carpet. "From Amara?" she murmured, more to herself.

Not expecting an answer, A'isha instead focused on hobbling through the ship's hallways. She gnawed on her bottom lip, set on autopilot as countless questions exploded in her mind.

Was Amara all right?

Had that call been about her?

Had she done something to put Marik's briefs in a twist?

But if that was the case, why would he be brassed off at her for something Amara had done?

That didn't make sense!

You're thinking that like Marik's thinking rationally today. A'isha pursed her lips. He was already pissed when he got that call because I talked to Julie. And just last night, he got hammered because today's his birthday, a day he ain't too fond of. He's clearly not thinking straight. And who knows, he might not have all the facts either! She swallowed, her brows crumpling. But what if I'm the one that's missing something? What if I've stepped out of line – by Marik's definition – without even knowing it?

By God, she hated the unknown. She couldn't prepare for that!

"Please remember, A'isha," Odion spoke up for the first time in minutes. "His emotions shouldn't control yours."

A'isha's breath hitched. Oh great. If Odion's saying stuff like that, shit's definitely going down tonight. And I've still got no idea why!

They rounded one final corner to find a short, beefy man in a Rare Hunter cloak stationed outside a painfully familiar door: the one to The Box. She figured Marik had revoked her rights to that fancy schmancy new room.

Odion maintained his hold on her shoulder as he exchanged nods with the podgy-faced man. The jingle of metal on metal filled the air as the Rare Hunter dove a stubby hand into a deep pocket of his plum purple cloak and withdrew a set of keys. Then, he pounded his fist against the door three times, each with a sudden clang. "We're openin' up!" he barked. "So don't be tryin' anything else, Little Missy!"

A'isha paled. Anything… else…?

Icy tendrils coiled up her spine the moment the man lurched the door open. Amara was hunched over at the end of the flimsy, single bed. Her drenched, white shirt clung to her frame like a second skin, its end moulded to every bump and ridge of her denim shorts, her pale pink bra visible. Liquid dripped freely from her hair to dye the bedsheets beneath her a darker shade of grey.

Her eyes met A'isha's for a fleeting moment.

Long enough to show they were bloodshot.

Long enough to show the mascara smeared around them.

Long enough to show the shame that swarmed their surface.

Then, with a start, they darted back to the lap of their owner. "I'm… I'm sorry, Ish…" The line was barely given voice. "I'm so, so sorry…" She buried her head in her hands and garbled that same apology over and over, shaking her head incessantly.

Despite her limp, A'isha tottered over to her cousin in two seconds flat. The bedsprings squeaked in sync with the lock of the exit as she claimed the empty spot to Amara's right, relieved to be off of her feet. The back of her dress was drenched in seconds, but she couldn't care less.

"Hey hey hey…" A'isha slipped an arm around Amara, the girl's wet shirt like a wintry breath against her skin. She recoiled with a gasp. "Mar, you must be freezing!"

Movement in her peripheral vision stole her focus. "Here," Odion said, holding up a black jacket A'isha recognised as hers. Odion eased the garment over Amara's shoulders; she shrugged right out of it.

"No! I don't want it!" She glared at her lap through glassy eyes. "I don't deserve it!"

A'isha slipped a hand over Amara's cold, clammy one. "Why, Mar? Why would you think—"

"Last night…" Amara's fist curled beneath A'isha's hand. "Last night you said that… that Marik was super drunk." Her voice cracked as she bit back shuddering sobs. "You said you realised too late you could've, like, swiped his phone." She sniffed twice. "It… got me thinking about how… how I'm always underestimated. Like… I thought maybe when you and Marik were out tonight, that… I dunno… I could've been useful for once. Like, I could… sneak out! It's not like anyone was gonna suspect me." She smeared a shaky hand across her eyes, streaking mascara toward her temple. "So I… I did sneak out! I got to this… this fishing shop or something and I dialled Dad!" Another sniff. "But then… then the Rare Hunters found me and I- I just freaked out and- and ran. I just fucking ran!"

Amara slammed her left fist against the mattress, her right still cupped beneath A'isha's. "I should've stayed there! I should've waited for the call to connect!" A sob erupted in her throat, rocking her shoulders. "If I had… then at least I might've reached Dad. The- The creeps were gonna catch me anyway! It's not like I had anything to lose! I'm just… I'm sick of being useless all the time!" She ripped the black jacket off the bed, leaped to her feet and launched it at the door dead ahead. "I'm so fucking sick of screwing shit up all the time! I'm sick of never making things better or… or using my freaking pea brain! I'm just…" She sunk into her seat, slack and shaking. "I'm just sick of proving Marik right…"

A'isha's heart seized. "Amara, you are NOT stupid." She hoped her cousin knew the frown she wore was thanks to Marik, not her.

"Who's the genius that let him in the freaking house last week? Oh, that's right! ME!"

"You didn't know—"

"But YOU would have!" Amara choked, once again finding her feet. "You DID know, didn't you? That he was a fucking psycho?" Tears streaked her cheeks, clinging to her chin. "You wouldn't have let him in. You wouldn't have trusted him. You wouldn't have even given him the chance to use that… that creepy rod on you. You just… You just wouldn't have!" Her shoe squelched as she kicked the leg of the bed. "That's just what you're like! You're the smart one! You're the one with the great grades, the great friends, the great future! The one with all the confidence!" She prodded her chest. "Me? I'm just the ditsy dumbass that's too stubborn to listen to the people I should and so scared I always say yes to the people I shouldn't. I'm JUST like he says!"

"Mar, do you really believe an asshole like him—"

"He's been in my HEAD, Ish!" Amara shrieked, jabbing her forefingers toward her temples. "He- He prolly knows everything about me!"

A'isha rushed to her feet. Pain zapped up her right leg and she clenched her jaw, sucking air through her teeth, and fought through it. "Yes, Marik's been in your head. He knows your strengths, your weaknesses, your insecurities and who knows what else!" She gripped Amara's shoulders and captured her gaze. "But none of that – none! – means that what he says about you is true."

Amara was silent. She only stared at her feet, hair hiding her ashen face as droplets dripped from the jet-black strands to splat on the marble floor.

A'isha sighed at her silence. "Amara… He wants us insecure. He wants us feeling hopeless… useless… broken. Captives like that are obedient. They're easier to keep in line!"

Amara looked up at that. "But I tried to escape! No, I did escape!" Her brows gathered. "Even though I do feel useless, I still tried to, so…"

A'isha smiled. It was small, but it was there. "You tried because you care… about the people we were taken from… about your freedom—"

"About you."

A'isha glimpsed a small smile as she was pulled into a tight hug. At any other time, that would've been AOK. Her ankle had other ideas.

A yelp of pain pried through her lips, and Amara leaped back like a startled feline. "Oh gosh, Ish! What did I—"

A gasp plucked the last word from her lips as she spotted A'isha's leg, bits of dried blood still streaking her knee despite her earlier efforts to wipe them from existence. Her eyes then swept up to Ish's cheek, a stark print of Marik's knuckles slowly bruising the tender flesh.

A'isha went rigid at the glassy-eyed gaze of her cousin, and at the way she pulled a quivering hand to her lips.

"It… It's not your fault, Amara—"

"He hurt you!" Her face contorted as another wave of tears threatened to spew forth. "He hurt you because I tried to—"

"He hurt me because I talked to Julie!"

A'isha failed to mention when he'd injured her- right after the call that had likely been about Amara's escape. He must think I played a part in it; that she wouldn't have tried to escape without me asking her to. She frowned. That would explain why he lost his shit at ME in the parking lot…

Meanwhile, Amara stared at her with bug eyes. "You saw Julie?"

A'isha nodded. "In the washroom of the restaurant. She's in Catania right now!"

Amara glanced at Odion, standing still and silent to one corner of the room, then shot A'isha a wide-eyed look.

A'isha sunk onto the single bed and sighed as the pain in her ankle faded—if only a little. "Don't freak. I think Odion already knows about Julie." She figured Marik might've used The Rod to update Odion on the drive back. "And if he didn't know about Jules, well… it doesn't matter. Marik already does. He caught her and wiped her memory clean—her short-term memory, that is." She pulled her ankle into her lap, frowning at the sight of it.

Amara gasped, her hands slapping to her lips. "Is your ankle supposed to look like a giant sausage with toes?"

A'isha had to laugh. "What're you on about, Mar? It doesn't look that bad!"

Amara's dainty fingers twitched as she hovered them through the air, revealing quivering lips, and gestured toward her steadily swelling ankle. "Was… Was that him too?"

"Amara." The address came firmly. "This isn't your fault. You needa stop searching for reasons to beat yourself up about it."

Amara scoffed. "Why?" She balled her fists and glared at the ground, her knuckles whitening while tears blurred her vision. "First, I get you beaten up by Tamarillo. Next, I steal your bus money which basically helped those creeps to mug you, where they spilled Marik's name and started this whole shit-storm. And now, I get you beaten up by Jerky McJerk Skirt. Tell me, Ish—am I forgetting something?!" Her tanned skin creased around her bloodshot eyes as her lips twisted in an attempt to suppress her tears. "D-Don't answer that."

The corner of A'isha's lip quirked up. "Jerky McJerk Skirt?" She arched a brow. "When did you start calling him that?" Maybe she could steer their conversation down a slightly less miserable road.

"Like, two seconds ago." Amara hectically shook her head. "But… But that's not the point!"

"Why Jerky McJerk Skirt?" A'isha continued, holding her hands loose around her distended ankle.

"You can't tell me that stupid cloak of his isn't a dress in disguise!" Amara toyed with a section of the soaked bedsheet, grimacing. Yet, A'isha didn't miss the slight, almost imperceptible, laughter that lined her words. "An unfashionable one, mind you, but—"

"My apologies, Amara, A'isha." Odion stepped forward, his lips drawn into a thin line. "Sadly, I must return to your prior topic of conversation—injuries." Sombreness squirmed thick in his olive eyes as they shifted to A'isha. "It would be wise for me to tend to your wounds sooner rather than later." He hesitated, as though his next words shot a sour taste through his mouth. "In half an hour, I'm to bring you to Marik's quarters… as per his instruction."

A shiver shook A'isha's shoulders, sending a surge of unease straight to her fingertips. The ache of anxiety remained even after the shiver dissipated. "Both of us?" The question was barely above a whisper.

His thick brows furrowed, heavy with pity. That alone was enough of an answer, but he nodded nonetheless.

A'isha winced, her grip on her ankle having tightened. She loathed the way her fingers trembled. Again.

"Umm… Why d'you guys look nervous about both of us going?" Amara pulled a dripping strand of black hair over her shoulder to twist around her finger, squeezing rainwater from it in the process. Fiddling with her hair, Ish had noticed, was something she sometimes did when an unpleasant encounter was nigh. "Isn't it better that he wants us to both be there for his hissy fit instead of just one of us dealing with it?"

A'isha looked at Odion. She needn't possess a mirror to know the grimace he wore was a reflection of her own. Actually, hers was likely ten times more obvious.

"Okay," Amara drawled, her eyes darting between the two while her forefingers circled each other in a dizzying dance of nerves. "If there's something I'm missing please just tell me. I mean, isn't it better for us to face him together? Like, jeez!" Her right forefinger stopped circling her left, instead pointing at A'isha's ankle, still propped upon her lap. "Look what that psycho did when you were alone with him!"

A'isha pursed her lips, eyes lowering to her lap. Technically, she hadn't been alone with him when he'd lost his shizz. Mirah had been there. And if she hadn't been, A'isha was near certain she wouldn't be half as healthy as she was now. She swallowed once, loathing the sting in her stomach that called that thought a major understatement.

He wouldn't have hurt me, she sought to tell herself. He wouldn't have… murdered me.

A'isha didn't know what hurt more: the truth itself, or the real reason it sent tears clawing at the edges of her eyes. She couldn't let them fall. Not with Amara around to question why.

Instead, she jerked her head left and right. "I don't care if Marik hurts me, Amara! He knows that!" She knew that first bit was a lie. She did care if he hurt her… because he couldn't just hurt her in the physical sense. Far from it. And if life had taught her anything, it was that the most excruciating scars were seldom set in skin.

"So then…" Amara cocked her head to the side. "What're you saying, Ish?"

A'isha's lips parted, quivering. No sound came out. By the fear that fogged her cousin's vision, she suspected Amara already knew the answer… but that didn't make this any easier.

Amara was at the whims of a mind-reading maniac. A particularly pissed mind-reading maniac. She was his leverage, his means of blackmail, his method to keep her in line. And she'd quite possibly thrown him over the edge and half way to China with the Julie kerfuffle! Amara's attempted – and for a time, successful – escape had only flipped the figurative switch that was his temper in its truest, cruellest form.

In under thirty minutes, Marik might just follow through with his threats. He might just make his Goddamn point. He might just hurt Amara to prove how truly powerless they were against him.

The last thing A'isha wanted, as their encounter with Marik screamed closer, was Amara scared shitless of him. Even more than she already was.

A'isha tensed, towed back to reality by an ice-cold hand atop her own, and an equally cool shoulder pressed to hers. The smile she was met with was small, and not quite as reassuring as it's owner intended. "Ish, I know you're just trying to protect me, but—"

A'isha knew her cousin's words well before she could spell them out. "You're right, Mar."

Trembling, she gripped her ankle, only to wince as pain sliced straight up her calf. Her grip softened, though her digits continued to quiver.

"You needa know what could be coming our way." She sighed, lifting her eyes to meet Amara's. "Look, Mar." She forced the facts through her lips before her brain could even think to protest. "The way Marik's been keeping me in line is through you. He's been threatening your safety. He's made it pretty clear that if I try to escape, he'll hurt you." Her brows creased. "And, well, his threats worked until tonight—but when I saw Julie I just… I got so caught up in the moment, in the shock of her actually being within arm's reach, that I forgot what the consequences of being caught were." And by God, she felt mighty awful for it.

"So what if he hurts me?" Amara countered, leaping off the bed and to her feet. "Like, he's already hurt YOU!" She stabbed a finger through the air, toward the floor, as though that further emphasised her point. "And we're still safer together than we are apart, aren't we?"

A'isha shook her head, grimacing. "We're talking about a mind-controlling egomaniac with a superiority complex, Amara. And he's super pissed." Her ankle slipped from her lap to greet the floor, and she clenched her fists in her lap. "Mar, I…" Her voice broke. "I can't protect you from him. I just can't!"

And of course, the waterworks were trying to make an appearance. So far, however, they were failing—but barely.

"Marik's not like those school bullies." A'isha stared down her steadily whitening knuckles. "This isn't like that time Tamarillo went all psycho-bitch on you in the bathroom and I came to your resc—"

"I don't WANT things to be like that anymore!" Amara screamed, her tears flying with every shake of her head. "I don't WANT you getting knocked out and sent to the sickbay just because I bullied the school's BIGGEST BULLY to look cool for my stupid friends!" A sob sent shudders through the girl's shoulders. "Gosh, Ish—I felt terrible after that. And… And you were so mad 'cause I acted like I didn't care but I… I just thought—I mean, Mum was all 'it's no big deal' and 'oh, she asked for it' and I guess I just… I wanted to believe her because it made me feel a little less shit about it." She sniffed, then rubbed an arm across her dainty nose, smearing snot across her cheek. "I… I'm just gonna say it now, A'isha. I'm… SO freaking sorry for getting you knocked out that day, for stealing your bus money, for letting Marik in, for just—ARGH—for all the shit I've ever put you through!"

Before A'isha could register, Amara's arms were around her shoulders, and she was thumping back against the mattress with her cousin a crumpled mess atop her. Pain zapped through her leg a second time, though it was outweighed by the joy her cousin's words brought with them.

"I'm sorry, Ish!" Amara blubbered into her shoulder, her flushed cheeks like ice against A'isha's skin. "I'm sorry for all of it!"

A'isha smiled, lightly patting her cousin's back. "Well… I suppose I can forgive you," she teased, somehow managing a giggle from Amara. "And hey, at least this whole shitfest has been good for one thing."

Amara pulled herself off of the bed and back to her feet, and A'isha glimpsed a smile from Odion, who remained silent to one corner of the room, near her half-opened suitcase.

"Umm," Amara voiced, cocking her head like a curious canine. "What's one thing this cray week's been good for?"

"Well, we can actually stand each other now!"

Amara beamed. "And I'm sayin' it now, all bets are still ON when we get back home!"

"I'm just glad you said when and not if."

"We will get back home, A'isha. We've got to—" A shriek shot through Amara's lips as she slipped on a puddle of water, no doubt birthed from her soaked attire. Luckily, she caught herself almost instantly. "Ah crap, the marble's drenched." She gasped, eyes shooting to Ish. "Oh my gosh, all that hugging's totally soaked you! I'm so sorry! And- Oh gosh, I'm already needing to apologise right after—"

A'isha held up a hand. "Trust me, I'm getting outta this rag right after Dr Odion patches me up."

"Seriously," Amara groaned, turning to said doctor, "you must be SO sick of his shit, Odion!"

"As I'm sure you are both aware," Odion stated, his lips quirking upward, "it is the price one must sometimes pay to protect someone they love."

Amara deadpanned. "Wait a sec. Are you guys, like, gay lovers or something?"

A'isha's palm met her face in a millisecond. "Amara, they're brothers!"

"Ohhhh! Fraternal love!" Amara laughed, quiet and sheepish, and twiddled her thumbs. "My bad… but y'know, Marik does kinda look like he could, err, swing that way… 'cause he's, well…" She cleared her throat. "Never mind. Sorry, Odion. I totally just scarred you for li-" Her eyes bulged, glued to the marred half of his face. "Iiiii'm gonna go get showered, warm and dry… before I, umm, say something even stupider."

To Amara's relief, Odion merely smiled—in fact, the expression bordered on a grin. Apparently, he found her lack of tact amusing, more than anything else. With a long sigh of relief, Amara scooped up some clothes, immediately found the wall-switch for the bathroom and soon enough, the wall was crawling to a close behind her.

x

Marik skulked through familiar corridors, his every rigid step screaming his ire. His eyes were set dead ahead; a tell that he was on a mission, if his movements alone weren't enough of an indication. He ripped the Millennium Rod from beneath his belt, the unseeing eye shining once in his trembling grasp. "Lumis." The address, voiced in his mind alone, came harsh and firm. "Report."

"Y-Yes, Master Marik," his servant snivelled from some far-off section of the ship, his voice like that of a feeble insect. "We've had no reports of increased police activity since the girl's escape."

"How far from the shore are we?"

"Three and a half kilometres, Master."

Marik's grip on The Rod tightened, his knuckles quickly paling. "That's not far enough, fool!" His eyes narrowed to slits. "I want as much distance between us and that Ra-damned city as possible!"

"But Sir, the ship… she's moving as fast as she—"

"Push her harder."

With that, Marik shoved The Rod back beneath his belt, his sights never shifting from the hall ahead.

A mere moment passed before a podgy Rare Hunter rushed around the corner, straight into his path. The man froze. One good look at his boss and the quaking, bug-eyed fool was noping the heck outta there, stumbling three steps back and down another hallway.

He was the third Rare Hunter to do so in just as many minutes.

Marik rounded the corner the bumbling buffoon had come from, stomped nine steps and made one final turn. Two doors came into view. The one on the left brought a sense of normality with it. The one on the right, however, had his fists curling so strongly they shook against his smoke grey slacks.

A'isha's new bedroom.

A grimace formed on his face as he stared down the plain, mahogany door. Now that he thought about it, did that agreement still stand? Would it be her new bedroom after the unexpected events to transpire tonight?

He shoved a hand into the left inner pocket of his suit to withdraw a set of keys, each sliver of metal clattering against its counterpart.

What was to stop him from rescinding his end of the bargain, revoking each and every term agreed upon for the Ra-damned ruse? After all, he'd now benefited from the arrangement. That was all that mattered.

A quiet part of him whispered otherwise. Is nullifying my end of our arrangement too severe?

His nose scrunched with distaste. "Of course not," he growled, plucking one key from the rest on the chain. He loathed the way his fingers continued to quiver. "She instigated Amara's escape. She blabbed to Julie. She chose to defy me", his digits quivered harder at that, "knowing full well that being caught would have its consequences."

Marik made a move to slide the key into the hole, growling through gritted teeth with every failed, increasingly forceful attempt. Apparently, his fingers had a Ra-damned mind of their own tonight.

Five seconds felt like that many minutes.

And that's when a particularly infuriating revelation clicked in place of the lock. The key between his thumb and forefinger, both digits long since drained of their colour, was the key to the room behind him. To A'isha's potential new bedroom.

Marik's shoulders seized. "Ra damn it!" He tore through the keys, resisting absolutely every impulse to hurl them at the wall. Creating a sizeable dent in something sounded awfully tempting right now.

Instead, he located the correct key and, after two painful attempts, twisted it in the hole so harshly it might have just bent beneath his fingertips. The satisfaction brought by the slam of his bedroom door behind him was sorely welcomed; though sadly, it was short-lived.

Marik stamped left and into his walk-in closet. Unscheduled or not, he couldn't host a meeting with his employ whilst wearing a suit. No, any assemblies with his Rare Hunters required the cloak.

The tie came off first, unravelled with wavering fingers and stored in a drawer with twenty-nine others. Shrugging out of the smoke grey coat, he glimpsed an unwelcomed tear in a seam on the sleeve of his dress shirt and, upon further inspection, noted a few buttons were missing.

The semi-permanent glare on his face only intensified. Perhaps the breaks had occurred amid that little kerfuffle in the parking lot. Or when he'd dragged the girl from the car. Or perhaps when his new employee had forcefully stepped in.

He should have ensured her presence as well. However, this wouldn't be an effective method for Little Benu as it would for his captives. Also, one wrong move would pit all three of them against him- each for her own reasons, but still- those odds were no doubt terrible.

Marik shook his head, the chime of his earrings muted to his mind. "It doesn't matter." He plucked a white coat hanger from a nearby rack and threw the garment around it, only to pause upon spotting a light brown mark across the left shoulder.

Despite the gracious smile to line Mirah's lips, the air of impishness surrounding her address wasn't lost to him. She was clearly preparing to mess with him. "Miss Toma…" Marik narrowly resisted a brow raise at that. "Perhaps you would regale us with how you've become Ms Soon To Be Sharti?"

Marik needn't catch the ghost of a smirk the vexing little bird sent his way to know of her damn plan. Of course. The blasted woman was hoping to humiliate him by tripping up his supposed date—

"We actually went to the same university."

His eyes snapped left to find a bubbly smile across A'isha's lips, spreading its warmth and setting her whole face aglow. It could've passed for sincere. And it was directed at him. He refused to admit his own smile in that moment was even remotely genuine. His amusement at the undoubtedly awkward circumstance A'isha found herself in, however, was something he was all too willing to acknowledge.

As A'isha redirected that smile to their company across the table, he silently admitted he'd underestimated her acting skills. "And as fate would have it, we met through a mutual friend."

Her right cheek nestled on his left shoulder, and Marik battled absolutely every impulse to tense in that moment. She smelt of lotus flower, of lavender, sweet but with a kick that simply suited her.

"That was just under two years ago," A'isha continued. "We quite literally stumbled into each other at this guy, Aaron's Christmas Eve shindig." He felt her grin grow against his shoulder. "Both of us were sober, I assure you… I'm just a wee bit uncoordinated."

Marik bit back a laugh, tempted to vouch for Miss Head Of The Dance Squad's amusing claim. Somehow, he kept his mouth shut.

A hint of disappointment rattled through his mind as A'isha's cheek left his shoulder. She perked up in her seat, only to scoop his left hand up in her right one. The disappointed dwindled.

"Namu," she enthused, holding his hand in her lap, "that means our meet-a-versary is tomorrow!"

Marik returned her smile with ease, barely registering the way his grip tightened on her hand; firmly, not roughly. "Si, you just realised?" he said through a laugh.

"You know I'm bad with dates, Mumu."

What had no doubt been an attempt at ticking him off had instead resulted in a cheeky smirk. She should know he always enjoys a bit of banter—or rather, a lot of it. She should also be aware of his talent for knowing just which button to push, particularly when it comes to her. Perhaps a refresher was in order.

"I'd like to dispute that." He caught her lips twitch, perhaps with slight dismay. "We've had a great many dates and I've adored each and every one of them." His smirk snaked wider. "Especially the date we shared just last night."

Despite the reminder of last night's events, A'isha impressed him with a laugh. She pried her hand from his to lightly smack his shoulder, though he knew she wished the action had been anything but light. "Oh, Namu. You know that's not the kind of date I meant!"

That time, as a chuckle shook his shoulders, Marik did acknowledge the sincerity behind his smile.

Tanned fingertips, somehow trembling harder than before, eased over the mark on the shoulder of his suit. Obviously, it was from her makeup. It must've transferred in the moment that she'd laid her cheek on his shoulder.

Lavender eyes lowered to a pair of polished leather shoes. She was starting to trust me, claimed that oh so irksome part of him. Perhaps she even felt safe—

"Why should I care?"

The coat hanger screeched as Marik dumped it on the nearest rack. He ground his teeth, continuing to grip the flimsy plastic beneath the shoulder of the coat.

"Trusting me was her mistake." The snap of plastic beneath his fingers was distant to his ears. "And trusting her was mine…"

Marik shook his head again, more violently than before. "Of course they tried to escape," he tried to reason with himself, gripping the metal pole from which his clothing hung. "They're captives." His knuckles went white. "Escaping is what captives do." Wrinkles formed around his eyes as he clenched them shut. "It's… It's what I did."

As if on cue, a series of bloodcurdling screams erupted in his mind like a chilling symphony. Six years. It had been six years—tonight.

And even now, his nose crumpled at the scent of the musty gag, of candle wax.

Even now, his whole body went rigid with every slice of that scalding dagger, dragged through his skin at the hands of a madman.

Even now, his toes curled as his nerves squirmed, shocking his brain with sharp screams of pain, until eventually, pain was all he felt.

No start.

No end.

Just agony.

The musty stench of a tattered gag was overthrown by another aroma—of lotus flowers and lavender. It was pleasantly sweet, soothing to his senses, and the agony evaporated.

And then a switch flicked in his mind.

The scent reminded him of her.

His eyes snapped open to hone in on its origin. He tore the coat from its hanger, his lips drawing back in a snarl as he hurled it across the room. It struck the farthest wall, then slumped to the floor in a crumpled mess, just inches to the left of a laundry basket.

White fabric creased beneath his fingertips as Marik ripped the dress shirt from his chest, buttons scattering across the carpet. He propelled it at the basket, this time with perfect accuracy. Heavy panting rocked his shoulders, his fists curling at his sides, shaking harder with each passing second.

His hand was around her wrist, prompting her to a sudden stop. Apparently, his coordination wasn't entirely gone. His grip was gentle. He made sure of that. Hurting her wasn't his intention. Not tonight.

A'isha watched him from over one shoulder, still and silent. She'd gone tense. He could feel it beneath his fingertips, the way her wrist shook in sync with the rest of her.

She didn't deserve it.

The fear.

The abuse.

The depression.

Not from that witch, Elissa.

And certainly not from him.

His lips quivered, a flurry of foreign thoughts filling his mind.

How strange. In a state of sobriety, such thoughts were shoved to the very fringes of his mind, forgotten. Now, in the oddly soothing hands of intoxication, clarity drove him to pluck those very thoughts from said fringes, throwing them into the spotlight.

In that moment, his lips moved of their own accord.

And he let them.

"For the longest time and perhaps even still, the only thing I could control with ease was when I choose to care." He took two carefully placed steps forward, not fancying a face full of sand. "It was always when… never was where or about whom considered." Another careful step. "I suppose I still can't control those last two factors."

Two more placed steps and those dark blue eyes were on him, hazed by thoughts he'd never know. Or rather, thoughts he refused to know by force.

Gently, Marik released her wrist, smoothing a hand up her arm and hating the way she shivered beneath his fingertips. Her cheeks flushed scarlet, something he'd come to enjoy. It meant he'd surprised her.

Marik's breaths quickened, his heart throbbing in his ears. Warmth resonated through the back of his hand; only then did he realise he was tracing it over her cheek. And that she'd stopped shaking.

Perhaps his touch had put her at ease.

Perhaps she no longer feared him.

Perhaps she cared for him too.

"I've often wondered how it feels…"

Delicately, his lips met hers. And for the first time in years, he was content.

In the present, Marik repelled every impulse to punch the nearest wall, instead prying his fingers from his palms to withdraw the Millennium Rod from his belt.

"That kiss was purely carnal," he growled, placing The Rod on a nearby drawer. He yanked his belt free and tossed it near his shirt. "Driven by inebriation." He floundered out of his slacks, growling at his seldom-seen lack of grace. "Any desire for her is physical, lustful, Ra-damned hormonal!" As that last word left his lips, he flung his pants at the floor.

Marik peeled his eyes from his pants to give himself a once over. He was having a temper tantrum.

Loudly.

In his underwear.

Thank Ra these walls were relatively soundproof. And that no one was around to witness such a ridiculous sight.

Marik shook his head, his blond bangs lightly tickling his temples, and yanked a mauve schenti from another hanger. The thin fabric skimmed the skin of his ankles as he clipped the base, a thick band of gold, around his waist. The cloak followed, billowing as he threw it around his shoulders. He toyed with the wide cuffs, his thoughts wandering once more.

Why did I claim to care for her?

"Women are emotional creatures. Clearly, by playing on that weakness I'd increase my odds of appealing to her." His eyes narrowed. "For no reason bar physical gratification."

She didn't kiss me back.

A pang shot through him then and he stilled, the cuff still gripped between his fingers. "Alcohol-induced stupidity," he said after a silent moment. "I misjudged the situation."

Is it truly her that I misjudged? His shoulders went taut. Or myself?

He growled, flicking a hand dismissively. His mind was dishevelled, hanging from its hinges, in the wake of tonight's events. He'd rationalise such trivial thoughts at a later time, with a clear head.

Eyes sparking with recollection, Marik retrieved his keys from his previously discarded coat and slipped them in a deep pocket of his cloak. He retrieved The Rod and crossed the threshold to his bedroom, any unsavoury thoughts dispelled in the doorway of his closet.

Only one thing mattered now.

They'd disobeyed him. They'd forgotten their place aboard his ship. They'd forgotten he was in charge and to what extent he'd go to prove it.

A reminder was clearly in order.

And in only fifteen minutes, he'd deliver just that.

x

The slaps of water on tile from the bathroom were faint, particularly with the racket the ship motor was making. It hummed particularly loud tonight, pushed to such limits that if she shut her eyes and focussed, its vibrations even coursed through the marble floor to buzz her bare feet.

With a little more trouble than she cared to admit, A'isha had changed into something more comfortable, not to mention drier. Just her usual baggy ensemble, the shirt black and the track pants pale grey. She avoided any smoke grey, thanks to Marik's stupid suit, and she didn't bother with shoes. Her ankle was decidedly too swollen for her to bother. They were indoors, anyway.

While she'd switched outfits, Odion had ducked out of the room to retrieve a bag of frozen peas. That had only taken two minutes; less time than she'd taken to change. Fortunately, the guy knew to knock.

Naturally, A'isha checked the frozen peas weren't, by chance, the ones Marik had used to nurse his nutsack earlier in the week. He'd insisted they were a recent purchase, picked up in Catania. Thank God!

A'isha eased her legs of off the floor and onto the drier half of the flimsy bed, toward the head of it. She spared a moment to stare down her ankle, fighting a frown. At best, it was a rather bad sprain. At worst, well… it could very well be broken.

She tried to tell herself otherwise—to be optimistic. After all, it was a very rare thing to break one's ankle and walk right after.

Despite her best efforts, optimism had never been A'isha's strong suit.

Through a wince, she pressed the peas to her ankle and glanced at her company. Odion was on the marble floor, sopping up the hazardous puddle Amara had left behind. He'd grabbed the crisp white towels from the linen cupboard, still open to her right.

A minute later, the sodden towels were landing in one corner of the room with a dull thud and Odion was withdrawing a first aid kit from a large pocket of his Rare Hunter cloak. She had to wonder if he'd retrieved it while grabbing the peas. Or perhaps he'd already had it on his person. It's not like he didn't know that his brother was a total friggin' psycho.

The crackling of a pack of painkillers – at least, she figured that's what they were – filled the room. He popped two pills into the palm of his ginormous right hand and, from his other pocket, he plucked a clear, plastic drink bottle, filled to the brim with clear liquid. Just how much stuff could they stow away in those creepy cloaks of theirs?

"Here." Water swished around the melded plastic, a few little bubbles rising to the surface, as he held the bottle and the two pills out to her. "Anti-inflammatory. It will help with both the pain and the swelling."

A'isha nodded, gratefully accepting both items. She hadn't realised how dry her mouth was until she tossed back the pills. A possible side effect of panic attacks, if she wasn't mistaken. Thirsty for more, she proceeded to gulp back half the bottle in just one go.

Only when she sucked in a breath, squeezing stale air from her lungs, did Odion speak up once more. "If I may, I'd like to tend to your knee before…"

She didn't even try to hide her scowl. "Before he gives you something else to tend to in ten minutes?"

He said nothing.

She didn't expect him to.

Instead, Odion slid into a drier spot near the end of the bed. He spread the first aid kit, fire engine red with a white plus sign across the front, across the bed to one side. Meanwhile, she pulled the left leg of her pants up to her thigh, revealing a bloody gauze that she mindfully untied to reveal a very skinned knee; by now, it had turned dark red with thick, unsightly scabs.

A'isha's hands quivered in her lap. Whether from fear or fury, she had no clue. "Y'know… when people care about someone they usually show it by, I dunno, sticking up for them… going outta their way to make them happy… being thoughtful and all that." Her fingers twisted around the thin sheet beneath her, fighting every urge to rip a gaping hole in the dang thing. "They don't usually smack you with their lips one night, then their knuckles the friggin' next!"

The sigh that eased from Odion's lips was somewhat expected. The words that followed it, however, were quite the opposite.

"And just when things were starting to go better…"

A'isha went rigid. A part of her wondered what the heck that even meant. Another part already knew. She hated that part—and the way it almost had her stomach curdling.

"Better…" Her voice was quiet. Any louder and it might've just cracked. "Better how?"

Odion lowered his gaze to her knee as he lathered his hands with a generous glob of sanitiser. "This week… It was the happiest I'd seen him in years."

"Well, what d'you expect?" She shot a glare at the nearest wall. "He's spent it kidnapping and torturing two teenage girls. Of course he's had a jolly old time!"

He looked at her then. "Do you really believe that?"

"It's what I choose to believe."

"You can't choose to ignore the truth." His words were soft and steady, and she knew exactly what he was hinting at. "You can only choose to not speak it aloud."

A'isha snorted, peeling her eyes from the wall to watch him instead. She hoped he knew that sour snort wasn't meant for him. "According to Marik, I always have a choice."

Her jaw clenched as he flushed her knee with a clear solution that stung like a mother trucker. With a few bits of tissue, he swiped away half a dozen drops of solution that had snaked down her knee.

"A'isha, you can always choose the way you react to what the world throws at you." His olive eyes locked with hers. "That doesn't mean you always choose your obstacles."

"Is his… so-called care for me an obstacle?"

At that, Odion stilled, a roll of gauze gripped in his tan palm.

"More than you think."

Regret racked her brain in a millisecond. That sure as heck wasn't the answer she'd expected. Or perhaps it just wasn't the one she'd hoped for.

She watched, absorbed in her ruminations, as Odion wordlessly wrapped her knee in gauze with the grace of a senior nurse. Not exactly an inaccurate description, she thought. That is, if Marik made a habit of hurting others whenever something rubbed him the wrong bloody way. She really wouldn't put it past Mr High and Mighty.

The drone of the sliding wall, its mechanisms clicking as it moved, announced Amara's return. She was clad in her usual ensemble, a form-fitting, baby pink shirt and pale blue skinny jeans, while her towel-dried hair was drawn back in a low and lengthy ponytail.

A'isha cocked a brow as Amara stepped into the room in a distinctly normal and underwhelming fashion—

"Man, this week's been one giant, steaming pile of dog doo-doo!"

Never mind.

By some miracle, A'isha managed a ghost of a smile despite the impending sense of doom that hung heavy on her shoulders. "Well, that's the understatement of the frickin' century right there!"

"You're telling me!"

A'isha tensed at the squeak of a zip, her eyes darting to the end of the bed, where Odion was slipping the first aid kit back into its former resting place. His eyes were on the marble floor. And she could've sworn he was shaking.

"It's time."

Two words had never sounded so grave. The unrest that riddled his eyes as they raised to meet hers had that ghost of a smile falling promptly.

His emotions shouldn't control yours…

Odion's words, uttered only half an hour prior, echoed through her mind. Only this time, they seemed to taunt her, to laugh at her, to pounce on her doubts.

In only a matter of minutes, she would either prove those doubts wrong... or prove them so painfully right.

To her chagrin, A'isha had a sneaking suspicion that someone would be proving something tonight.

And that someone wouldn't be her.


End file.
